The chair was gross and had probably been sitting outside for years, but it was a chair and for that, Victoria Amaro was thankful. Never one to be overly grossed out by much, Victoria sat in the gnarly chair having just finished patching up the back of her head. As far as sterile environments went, this probably ranked close to the bottom of the list, but what it lacked in sterility it made up for in silence.
There was no one around, no one but Victoria, and for that she was grateful.
((Victoria Amaro continued from And All Because Of A Snail))
The wound on the back of her head wasn't overly large, nor was it something to be concerned about, but as with most head wounds, they bled a lot. It had been a minor concern for her to start with, but once she'd found her way into the salvage yard and parked herself in a bit of a hideaway corner she could begin to assess the damage. Whatever the girl had hit her with had been a blunt object, something like a crowbar or a tool of some sort, and while it had caused a small degree of damage, she couldn't help but wonder how bad it could have been. She'd recalled the instrument having a pointed end, and had that hit her...
The cut itself hadn't been massive, but she'd rubbed some disinfectant over it and slapped a small bandage on anyway. It likely wouldn't hold against her hair, but if it would stop the bleeding at least before falling off that would do nicely. With that dealt with, her mind moved to the next set of issues; something she'd been conveniently not dealing with.
Until now.
The submachine gun she'd been carrying around was an implement of destruction, and it had a particularly vicious look to boot. How it had even come into her possession was a point of shame to be sure, she'd seen one of her classmates fall and had only stopped to pick up his pack. It had been a fateful decision, but one that she didn't regret. It was a necessity. In that particular moment, she'd chosen to take action. Unlike the confrontation at the back of the bar, where she'd hesitated and her inaction had earned a head wound for her trouble.
And yet...
Victoria peered down at the submachine gun, resting on her lap. She had acted, hadn't she? While she didn't remember pulling the trigger, the gun had gone off. Some of the ammunition was spent, and the weapon still had the telltale smell of gunpowder. No matter how much some people wanted to anthropomorphize their weapons during wartime, there was no malice to be found within the piece of technology in her lap. It was a series of levers, a piston, and a chemical reaction that made the gun work, and it would do no harm to anyone without a living, breathing person to pull the small metal trigger down.
So the gun hadn't fired at her assailants at the bar. She had.
What that meant for her own path moving forward was something that had started to gnaw at her. She'd shot at someone else, and her mind had glossed over that fact. Protected her from it, even. But as she put the pieces together, she couldn't help but wonder if her shots had even hit. Considering that brought with it another, more horrible thought. What if...?
Biting her lip, Victoria didn't want to think about that possibility at all.
So instead, she leaned her head back, and looked up at the sky. The sky looked pretty at this time of the afternoon, wherever it was the Americans had brought them. They could be anywhere; Victoria wasn't sure without stars in the sky to guide her. The heavens wouldn't judge her, because there was nothing up there but celestial bodies, carbon-based rock and the mysteries of the universe. Much like her weapon, planets weren't capable of judgement, which was just fine.
There was more than enough judgement in the salvage yard for all of them.
Dusk approached, and brought with it the promise of even more horrors to come.
For What It's Worth
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
There was so much to unpack.
Moment-by-moment, Victoria had gone over the day, and was in the midst of what had to be the fifth repetition of her actions and her journey thus far. The issue was that even five times through, she was coming to the exact same conclusion. A conclusion that had been loudly announced to any and everyone within earshot of a speaker - of which she imagined there were many, intended to broadcast to every surviving student in reach. That conclusion?
Victoria Amaro was a killer.
Her first instinct had been to self-label as a murderer, but that didn't feel right. There hadn't been any malice in what she'd done - though that in and of itself was still an issue for her; she still didn't remember pulling the trigger - and until now she didn't even know that the shots had landed. Her biggest curiosity about the incident now was which one of the two girls she'd killed. Rue. The name didn't ring a bell, but between the redhead and the girl with pink dreadlocks, one of them had been Rue, and her name would be forever married with Victoria's.
A cleverer person might have made a silly joke about the name, but Victoria wasn't witty enough to consider it. Nor was she one for gallows humour - not right now, not when there were new circumstances to consider.
Setting aside her newfound status as a killer for a moment, the most pressing need she found for herself was the lack of light. As the dusk had steered itself onto the island, the clouds had quickly obscured the light, and it was already getting to the point where visibility was poor. As soon as it had happened, Victoria had scoured the area for some sort of vantage point or shelter. There hadn't been much that was appropriate, but she'd found a nice corner and had set up a tarp that had been laying around in one of the junk piles. With the old chair, she had a perfectly feasible outpost, at least for the time being.
So here she sat, watching, waiting, but more trying to figure out what being a killer meant for her future. Victoria didn't feel much remorse for her actions - rather the opposite. She'd been attacked, and barely remembered reacting to it, so in her own mind it was just something that had happened. A fact, rather than an event that needed emotional circumstance assigned to it.
That was what she kept telling herself.
The secondary consideration was that anybody she came across was now very likely to be wary of her. Not that she could imagine anyone being overly happy to see her in the first place, but thanks to the announcement any goodwill she had with anyone would have vanished. That was bound to make interaction even more difficult for her than it already was.
As she sat in her makeshift outpost, Victoria Amaro frowned a little, shoulders sagging. She had vowed to herself that she would act, rather than be acted upon. Via her own inaction, she had failed her first test and there had been repercussions. A new option had surfaced within in the back of her mind, but Victoria submerged it almost immediately. Things had not fallen so far, it was not time for what most people would deem a last resort.
Though, she mused to herself as her vision strained to adjust to the oncoming darkness, things were only going to get worse before they got better. Her hands tightened on the sub-machine gun sitting in her lap.
She wasn't eager to see how low they could go.
Moment-by-moment, Victoria had gone over the day, and was in the midst of what had to be the fifth repetition of her actions and her journey thus far. The issue was that even five times through, she was coming to the exact same conclusion. A conclusion that had been loudly announced to any and everyone within earshot of a speaker - of which she imagined there were many, intended to broadcast to every surviving student in reach. That conclusion?
Victoria Amaro was a killer.
Her first instinct had been to self-label as a murderer, but that didn't feel right. There hadn't been any malice in what she'd done - though that in and of itself was still an issue for her; she still didn't remember pulling the trigger - and until now she didn't even know that the shots had landed. Her biggest curiosity about the incident now was which one of the two girls she'd killed. Rue. The name didn't ring a bell, but between the redhead and the girl with pink dreadlocks, one of them had been Rue, and her name would be forever married with Victoria's.
A cleverer person might have made a silly joke about the name, but Victoria wasn't witty enough to consider it. Nor was she one for gallows humour - not right now, not when there were new circumstances to consider.
Setting aside her newfound status as a killer for a moment, the most pressing need she found for herself was the lack of light. As the dusk had steered itself onto the island, the clouds had quickly obscured the light, and it was already getting to the point where visibility was poor. As soon as it had happened, Victoria had scoured the area for some sort of vantage point or shelter. There hadn't been much that was appropriate, but she'd found a nice corner and had set up a tarp that had been laying around in one of the junk piles. With the old chair, she had a perfectly feasible outpost, at least for the time being.
So here she sat, watching, waiting, but more trying to figure out what being a killer meant for her future. Victoria didn't feel much remorse for her actions - rather the opposite. She'd been attacked, and barely remembered reacting to it, so in her own mind it was just something that had happened. A fact, rather than an event that needed emotional circumstance assigned to it.
That was what she kept telling herself.
The secondary consideration was that anybody she came across was now very likely to be wary of her. Not that she could imagine anyone being overly happy to see her in the first place, but thanks to the announcement any goodwill she had with anyone would have vanished. That was bound to make interaction even more difficult for her than it already was.
As she sat in her makeshift outpost, Victoria Amaro frowned a little, shoulders sagging. She had vowed to herself that she would act, rather than be acted upon. Via her own inaction, she had failed her first test and there had been repercussions. A new option had surfaced within in the back of her mind, but Victoria submerged it almost immediately. Things had not fallen so far, it was not time for what most people would deem a last resort.
Though, she mused to herself as her vision strained to adjust to the oncoming darkness, things were only going to get worse before they got better. Her hands tightened on the sub-machine gun sitting in her lap.
She wasn't eager to see how low they could go.
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Irina Ivanov
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((Molly McKenzie continued from i'm ltierally cryign and sshakin rihgt now.))
Molly wasn't sure how she ended up here, at night, alone, out in the open. She wasn't even sure how she was able to keep walking for so long. It was probably because Molly knew that while walking around was dangerous, she knew that lying down and stopping was even more so. If she lay down, there was a very real possibility that she won't rise back up again, whether that be from her, or someone else. But if she kept walking...then surely, she'll be able to find a light in this darkness, right? Surely...she'll be able to find shelter?
From the time from when she impulsively fled a good place to stay just because she could feel some evil air in it (Bullcrap. There was no such thing as bad omens, negative energy and all that. Only mentalists believed all that.), to now, she simply, and aimlessly walked. Everything blurred into an unpleasant mixture of which it was impossible to find anything by itself. How long had she been walking? She didn't know, and barely cared. If she had seen anyone or heard anything, it all blurred together to the point that she couldn't remember.
She was tired, she wanted to fall and sleep on the ground. But she couldn't even do that. She needed to find anything, anywhere to take shelter in. At this rate, she was alright with sleeping in a tree (Not that she knew how to climb a tree). Anything...
There.
Molly saw a warehouse, off in the close distance. Maybe someone was already there, but she didn't care. If she did, then two things can happen; She can sleep safely with others, or Molly can....just force them out. She held her sledgehammer, and switched it to her other hand, her right hand. She shook her semi-sore other hand, and walked towards the boat shed.
Only to trip over a rusty mass of metal, metal structures grotesquely melted and rusted together through years of enduring rain and rank air. Molly caught herself before she fell, but she loudly gasped as peeling metal scraped her calf, and she backed away as the metal mass fell to one side, the metal groaning as it fell on the floor with a loud thump.
Hyperventilating and looking around nervously, Molly gripped her sledgehammer tightly, turning around in circles so she could see the whole area.
She hoped no one was nearby enough to hear that. But she felt a cold drop in her stomach, it must be the butterflies that were fluttering were fluttering again in panic, as they began to coldly drop dead. Someone probably heard that.
Molly wasn't sure how she ended up here, at night, alone, out in the open. She wasn't even sure how she was able to keep walking for so long. It was probably because Molly knew that while walking around was dangerous, she knew that lying down and stopping was even more so. If she lay down, there was a very real possibility that she won't rise back up again, whether that be from her, or someone else. But if she kept walking...then surely, she'll be able to find a light in this darkness, right? Surely...she'll be able to find shelter?
From the time from when she impulsively fled a good place to stay just because she could feel some evil air in it (Bullcrap. There was no such thing as bad omens, negative energy and all that. Only mentalists believed all that.), to now, she simply, and aimlessly walked. Everything blurred into an unpleasant mixture of which it was impossible to find anything by itself. How long had she been walking? She didn't know, and barely cared. If she had seen anyone or heard anything, it all blurred together to the point that she couldn't remember.
She was tired, she wanted to fall and sleep on the ground. But she couldn't even do that. She needed to find anything, anywhere to take shelter in. At this rate, she was alright with sleeping in a tree (Not that she knew how to climb a tree). Anything...
There.
Molly saw a warehouse, off in the close distance. Maybe someone was already there, but she didn't care. If she did, then two things can happen; She can sleep safely with others, or Molly can....just force them out. She held her sledgehammer, and switched it to her other hand, her right hand. She shook her semi-sore other hand, and walked towards the boat shed.
Only to trip over a rusty mass of metal, metal structures grotesquely melted and rusted together through years of enduring rain and rank air. Molly caught herself before she fell, but she loudly gasped as peeling metal scraped her calf, and she backed away as the metal mass fell to one side, the metal groaning as it fell on the floor with a loud thump.
Hyperventilating and looking around nervously, Molly gripped her sledgehammer tightly, turning around in circles so she could see the whole area.
She hoped no one was nearby enough to hear that. But she felt a cold drop in her stomach, it must be the butterflies that were fluttering were fluttering again in panic, as they began to coldly drop dead. Someone probably heard that.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Someone had heard that, indeed.
A clang, a thud, and a whimper. That was all that it took to send Victoria's senses into overdrive, her body tense almost immediately. Someone had invaded her temporary sanctuary. Rising from the chair that she'd been attempting to sleep in, she quietly crept around the corner to see if she could get a glimpse of the intruder. While the darkness had surrounded the salvage yard, Victoria's eyes had adjusted quickly, and as such it was easy to make out a solitary form on the other side of the yard, less than ten meters away.
The person seemed panicked, obviously regretting the noise they'd made. Shifting the weight of the submachine gun in her hands, Victoria's mind ran through all of the possible decisions she could make. She herself had been surprised back at the bar, and that had ended up in the death of someone else. Not that context was overly important in labelling her a killer, but perhaps she owed the figure across the yard an opportunity not to be in the same position she'd been placed in.
She would not attack unless she had to.
Stopping a few meters short of the person - some girl whose face she didn't recognize - Victoria raised her weapon, and after a moment, called out instructions.
"Stop." A pause. "I'm armed. Who's there?"
Not that the information would likely matter to her, but perhaps it was time for her to finally start caring about the names of the people she went to school with; more out of strategic advantage rather than actual care, but regardless. It was short, sweet, and to the point. Victoria preferred not to murder another one of her classmates - no, she preferred not to kill another. There was a difference, and she needed to be conscious of that. She could not forget it.
Not one for small talk, Victoria waited for the answer that would dictate how events unfolded over the next few minutes. For the girl's sake, and for her own, she hoped that the girl gave the right one.
A clang, a thud, and a whimper. That was all that it took to send Victoria's senses into overdrive, her body tense almost immediately. Someone had invaded her temporary sanctuary. Rising from the chair that she'd been attempting to sleep in, she quietly crept around the corner to see if she could get a glimpse of the intruder. While the darkness had surrounded the salvage yard, Victoria's eyes had adjusted quickly, and as such it was easy to make out a solitary form on the other side of the yard, less than ten meters away.
The person seemed panicked, obviously regretting the noise they'd made. Shifting the weight of the submachine gun in her hands, Victoria's mind ran through all of the possible decisions she could make. She herself had been surprised back at the bar, and that had ended up in the death of someone else. Not that context was overly important in labelling her a killer, but perhaps she owed the figure across the yard an opportunity not to be in the same position she'd been placed in.
She would not attack unless she had to.
Stopping a few meters short of the person - some girl whose face she didn't recognize - Victoria raised her weapon, and after a moment, called out instructions.
"Stop." A pause. "I'm armed. Who's there?"
Not that the information would likely matter to her, but perhaps it was time for her to finally start caring about the names of the people she went to school with; more out of strategic advantage rather than actual care, but regardless. It was short, sweet, and to the point. Victoria preferred not to murder another one of her classmates - no, she preferred not to kill another. There was a difference, and she needed to be conscious of that. She could not forget it.
Not one for small talk, Victoria waited for the answer that would dictate how events unfolded over the next few minutes. For the girl's sake, and for her own, she hoped that the girl gave the right one.
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Irina Ivanov
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- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
If she was still Old Molly from back home in Britain, then Molly would have been offended, offended that this girl didn't know who she was. Sure, Molly had a right not to know everyone's names, especially those dead weights at the bottom of the social totem pole, or those leeches who hung on to their friend like a parasite (This girl was probably one of those two, really, Molly didn't have a clue who she was.), but to not know HER name? Molly McKenzie? The Queen Bee of Saint Editha?
Well...this Molly didn't care one bit. She no longer was in that world, and here, social status didn't matter. In fact, maybe people shouldn't know who this ordinary, no, weak, no, worthless coward called Molly was. She did not have the bravado or the confidence anyone, she was just a husk trying to get by, trying desperately to live. (Not that she didn't know that she never had all that to begin with.)
"........"
Molly whimpered slightly, and tried to back away ever so slightly, her expression showing that she wanted to get away more then anything right now, that if she even had the smallest chance to not to hurt, then she'll take it and do anything for it.
But she couldn't escape. This girl right here, was holding a military weapon designed to hurt people. Molly only had metal on a stick.
She hyperventilated severely, so much so she began to go dizzy, cold tears began to for, around her eyes, as cold and upsetting as she was right now. One wrong step? She'll be falling into nothingness. Or hell. That was arguably better, at least she'll be remembered by the demons.
"Molly....McKenzie...You are...?"
Those words was already on the verge of death by the time they left her mouth that felt full. Molly couldn't take this, she was terrified, and it felt like all that terror, all that fear, all those negative emotions had become so powerful they took a physical form in the form of black, oozing foul liquid like surgical drainage. It felt like that liquid was overtaking her body, filling it with filth like dirtied honey. Her words sounded mangled and barely even hearable. The "You are?" at the end, in fact, was nearly sounded like nothing more then slightly more intelligent grunts then the ones trolls did.
Well...this Molly didn't care one bit. She no longer was in that world, and here, social status didn't matter. In fact, maybe people shouldn't know who this ordinary, no, weak, no, worthless coward called Molly was. She did not have the bravado or the confidence anyone, she was just a husk trying to get by, trying desperately to live. (Not that she didn't know that she never had all that to begin with.)
"........"
Molly whimpered slightly, and tried to back away ever so slightly, her expression showing that she wanted to get away more then anything right now, that if she even had the smallest chance to not to hurt, then she'll take it and do anything for it.
But she couldn't escape. This girl right here, was holding a military weapon designed to hurt people. Molly only had metal on a stick.
She hyperventilated severely, so much so she began to go dizzy, cold tears began to for, around her eyes, as cold and upsetting as she was right now. One wrong step? She'll be falling into nothingness. Or hell. That was arguably better, at least she'll be remembered by the demons.
"Molly....McKenzie...You are...?"
Those words was already on the verge of death by the time they left her mouth that felt full. Molly couldn't take this, she was terrified, and it felt like all that terror, all that fear, all those negative emotions had become so powerful they took a physical form in the form of black, oozing foul liquid like surgical drainage. It felt like that liquid was overtaking her body, filling it with filth like dirtied honey. Her words sounded mangled and barely even hearable. The "You are?" at the end, in fact, was nearly sounded like nothing more then slightly more intelligent grunts then the ones trolls did.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
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Victoria tilted her head slightly, allowing the information to run through her brain. Molly. Something lingered in her mind, and she squinted ever-so-slightly as she tried to allow it to surface. There was a tidbit, a factoid about that name that should have told her something. The face; now that her eyes had adjusted to the pale moonlight, was familiar but not enough to elicit any direct memory. As she contemplated, Molly's psyche fell apart in front of her, the girl's eyes never leaving the weapon that Victoria held in her hands. Just holding the submachine gun gave Victoria a sense of power over the girl; a sense of superiority that she wasn't entirely sure she deserved.
"Victoria."
She kept her answer short, her tone even. Molly may have been falling apart in front of her, but scared and desperate people did scared and desperate things, and Victoria had experienced first-hand what fear and desperation could cause people to do. Not to mention, with all that the girl was hyperventilating, Victoria had to remember that her name was on the announcement as well.
She was a killer; Victoria had to stop forgetting that. No one else would.
"Pull yourself together. We're all scared."
Her words felt hollow - her fear wasn't but the pitiful display in front of her was bordering on embarrassing. It felt like more of an annoyance to Victoria, but she was conscious of how much noise this girl was making. If she truly was falling apart at the seams, she was nothing more than a liability to have around and she would more than happily send her on her way.
Molly. Why was the name familiar?
Victoria knew that the aimed weapon was likely adding to Molly's fear, but she kept it readied. She wouldn't be taken by surprise again. No matter what.
"Victoria."
She kept her answer short, her tone even. Molly may have been falling apart in front of her, but scared and desperate people did scared and desperate things, and Victoria had experienced first-hand what fear and desperation could cause people to do. Not to mention, with all that the girl was hyperventilating, Victoria had to remember that her name was on the announcement as well.
She was a killer; Victoria had to stop forgetting that. No one else would.
"Pull yourself together. We're all scared."
Her words felt hollow - her fear wasn't but the pitiful display in front of her was bordering on embarrassing. It felt like more of an annoyance to Victoria, but she was conscious of how much noise this girl was making. If she truly was falling apart at the seams, she was nothing more than a liability to have around and she would more than happily send her on her way.
Molly. Why was the name familiar?
Victoria knew that the aimed weapon was likely adding to Molly's fear, but she kept it readied. She wouldn't be taken by surprise again. No matter what.
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Irina Ivanov
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- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Victoria. That name similarly was familiar to Molly, like how Victoria thought how Molly's name sounded familiar but also unfamiliar, Molly swore that she's seen or heard Victoria recently in some shape or form. But through the black, foul, hazy veil of fear that covered her head to toe, Molly was unable to reach in and grab ahold of that already foggy memory where she heard that name.
All she remembered was that this girl was dangerous. If that wasn't obvious enough by the gun pointed at her. Molly knew she shouldn't shatter into pieces in at a time like this, but it was hard, especially with a weapon built to...kill. She was still barely able to breathe from her gasps and sobs, when she heard Victoria, that girl's voice sounding like it was underwater. Or was it Molly who was underwater?
Pull...yourself...together? What was this girl asking? How can anyone put themselves together, them piecing bit by bit of their psyche and body back together? A strong person not like her...even they couldn't handle this death 'game', even they wouldn't be able handle those heartless yanks playing with their prey sadistically like this.
And someone like Molly? There was no way she could pull herself together. She was a person who was always like this, who always cried over every little injustice. The only exception is that now, instead of having the social grace to cry alone in a bathroom, she cried openly, for all the world to see how weak she was.
"I-I...I..."
Molly tried to speak, but her cries were stopped, like something gagged her, like there was something in her mouth. That something was weakness, cowardice, fear. She took a deep breath, tried to think/justify herself, and spoke again, quickly as to not be interrupted by a gagging gasp again.
"How-how can someone pull thems-themselves t-together! We've been told to not only die, but t-to ki-kill each other! An-and..."
All executed with the gracefulness of a toddler, Molly stopped herself and her half-angry, half-desperate outburst. She took another breath, put her hand on her hip, tried to show fake confidence. Tried to convince herself she had confidence.
"I'll...be fi-fine. I-I just n-need so-some s-sleep in somewhere s-safe."
Molly looked at the boat shed, the holy land in a filthy place like this, and the place she needed to get to.
All she remembered was that this girl was dangerous. If that wasn't obvious enough by the gun pointed at her. Molly knew she shouldn't shatter into pieces in at a time like this, but it was hard, especially with a weapon built to...kill. She was still barely able to breathe from her gasps and sobs, when she heard Victoria, that girl's voice sounding like it was underwater. Or was it Molly who was underwater?
Pull...yourself...together? What was this girl asking? How can anyone put themselves together, them piecing bit by bit of their psyche and body back together? A strong person not like her...even they couldn't handle this death 'game', even they wouldn't be able handle those heartless yanks playing with their prey sadistically like this.
And someone like Molly? There was no way she could pull herself together. She was a person who was always like this, who always cried over every little injustice. The only exception is that now, instead of having the social grace to cry alone in a bathroom, she cried openly, for all the world to see how weak she was.
"I-I...I..."
Molly tried to speak, but her cries were stopped, like something gagged her, like there was something in her mouth. That something was weakness, cowardice, fear. She took a deep breath, tried to think/justify herself, and spoke again, quickly as to not be interrupted by a gagging gasp again.
"How-how can someone pull thems-themselves t-together! We've been told to not only die, but t-to ki-kill each other! An-and..."
All executed with the gracefulness of a toddler, Molly stopped herself and her half-angry, half-desperate outburst. She took another breath, put her hand on her hip, tried to show fake confidence. Tried to convince herself she had confidence.
"I'll...be fi-fine. I-I just n-need so-some s-sleep in somewhere s-safe."
Molly looked at the boat shed, the holy land in a filthy place like this, and the place she needed to get to.
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Cactus
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- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
"That's right."
Her words still felt so hollow, much like the rest of her did. Victoria wondered if it was the shock of the whole situation that hadn't allowed her to feel much of anything. All of her emotions felt dulled, barely letting her feel anything more than a dispassionate observer might. Of course, at this very moment in the salvage yard, the girl in front of her had enough emotion flowing from her for the both of them. Uncomfortable at the thought, Victoria shifted her grip on the submachine gun in her hands as she tried to decide what to do. There were a myriad of options, many of them unpleasant for both Victoria and for Molly.
As Victoria went over the options in her mind, the expression on her face soured a little, as she realized that simply squeezing the trigger and putting Molly out of her misery was not at the bottom of her list, as it should have been. That would have been a list that was compiled during regular civilization, during a regular day of classroom activities.
This was no regular day.
Eyes following where the girl was looking, Victoria saw the shed, acknowledged its presence, and then looked back at her. The barrel of the gun never deviated from its locked-in presence upon Molly. The silence hung in the air, and its presence certainly didn't seem to be helping the girl's hysterics. Her breathing was ragged and sharp, hyperventilating had likely become almost like a normal pattern of breath for her.
It was kind of pathetic.
"If that's your plan, go. I haven't seen anyone go in it." It was brusque, though it was not her intention. She tried to soften her voice not altogether successfully as she added context. "I've been here for a little bit."
Continuing to size the frantic girl up, Victoria furrowed her brow a little as a vague memory came back into her mind. Molly and her had spoken before, hadn't they? Maybe it had been a long time ago. The memory thread tickled her like a splinter in one's finger, but she just couldn't pull it out.
The darkness continued to wash over the surroundings, and while their eyes had adjusted, the light of dusk was almost gone, now. The darkness of the first night was upon them.
Her words still felt so hollow, much like the rest of her did. Victoria wondered if it was the shock of the whole situation that hadn't allowed her to feel much of anything. All of her emotions felt dulled, barely letting her feel anything more than a dispassionate observer might. Of course, at this very moment in the salvage yard, the girl in front of her had enough emotion flowing from her for the both of them. Uncomfortable at the thought, Victoria shifted her grip on the submachine gun in her hands as she tried to decide what to do. There were a myriad of options, many of them unpleasant for both Victoria and for Molly.
As Victoria went over the options in her mind, the expression on her face soured a little, as she realized that simply squeezing the trigger and putting Molly out of her misery was not at the bottom of her list, as it should have been. That would have been a list that was compiled during regular civilization, during a regular day of classroom activities.
This was no regular day.
Eyes following where the girl was looking, Victoria saw the shed, acknowledged its presence, and then looked back at her. The barrel of the gun never deviated from its locked-in presence upon Molly. The silence hung in the air, and its presence certainly didn't seem to be helping the girl's hysterics. Her breathing was ragged and sharp, hyperventilating had likely become almost like a normal pattern of breath for her.
It was kind of pathetic.
"If that's your plan, go. I haven't seen anyone go in it." It was brusque, though it was not her intention. She tried to soften her voice not altogether successfully as she added context. "I've been here for a little bit."
Continuing to size the frantic girl up, Victoria furrowed her brow a little as a vague memory came back into her mind. Molly and her had spoken before, hadn't they? Maybe it had been a long time ago. The memory thread tickled her like a splinter in one's finger, but she just couldn't pull it out.
The darkness continued to wash over the surroundings, and while their eyes had adjusted, the light of dusk was almost gone, now. The darkness of the first night was upon them.
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Molly, as soon as she said what she had said before, had put her hand over her to try and fail to supress involuntary gasps and she closed her eyes as another wave of tears she couldn't stop came out. This was pathetic, really, all of these tears cried for something that had happened in the past, or so she thought, and she had no reason to cry now. Now that she was up against a threat, she was supposed to be brave, show this girl she could be allies even, and not deadweight. Then maybe, she could...
What was the point of thinking of things that will never happen? Molly will never get over this, and she will never be brave, cocky and full of bravado, sure, but not brave.
Molly was still frozen to the submachine gun, staring at the dark, black barrel dead-straight on. Her body was stiff and cold from not moving. How could she? One wrong move, and....
Molly felt more tears come out. Honestly, this was horrible. Back in the normal world, she could atleast see when the tears would stop. Here, in a world so unlike normal, so much more like hell then earth, Molly couldn't see a way out.
"H-huhh? You mean....uh, I can....go?"
It sounded so stupid, but as soon as Victoria replied to Molly, Molly snapped her head straight up as if in rigour mortis. But unlike rigor mortis, what she snapped her head up at, was very much directed at not death. If Victoria really let her go, and if she really went to the warehouse...she'll be safe. Safe from the darkness, safe from danger, safe to collapse and rest.
"So...I can...really...just...go to the warehouse? You're not going...to..."
She didn't finish her sentence, because if she did, she'll probably jinx herself, and plant that dark seed in Victoria's mind to...do that. Molly picked up her duffel bag slowly and cautiously, like someone trying to slowly and carefully step away from a wil animal. She looked Victoria for confirmation, despite desperately wnting to get away. She tried to keep her posture as confident as possible, and wiped her long-past tears.
What was the point of thinking of things that will never happen? Molly will never get over this, and she will never be brave, cocky and full of bravado, sure, but not brave.
Molly was still frozen to the submachine gun, staring at the dark, black barrel dead-straight on. Her body was stiff and cold from not moving. How could she? One wrong move, and....
Molly felt more tears come out. Honestly, this was horrible. Back in the normal world, she could atleast see when the tears would stop. Here, in a world so unlike normal, so much more like hell then earth, Molly couldn't see a way out.
"H-huhh? You mean....uh, I can....go?"
It sounded so stupid, but as soon as Victoria replied to Molly, Molly snapped her head straight up as if in rigour mortis. But unlike rigor mortis, what she snapped her head up at, was very much directed at not death. If Victoria really let her go, and if she really went to the warehouse...she'll be safe. Safe from the darkness, safe from danger, safe to collapse and rest.
"So...I can...really...just...go to the warehouse? You're not going...to..."
She didn't finish her sentence, because if she did, she'll probably jinx herself, and plant that dark seed in Victoria's mind to...do that. Molly picked up her duffel bag slowly and cautiously, like someone trying to slowly and carefully step away from a wil animal. She looked Victoria for confirmation, despite desperately wnting to get away. She tried to keep her posture as confident as possible, and wiped her long-past tears.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
"If I were going to shoot you, I would have done it already."
The proclamation was matter-of-fact, absent of malice. The fact was, she spoke only the truth. Were her instinctual reaction to be to kill first and deal with the repercussions at a later date, there would have been no time for discussion. The report of the weapon's discharge would have been all the discourse that she would have needed.
But that wasn't how people operated in a civilized situation. It may have felt like they were in a warzone - goodness knew that they essentially lived in one - but logically it still felt like the wrong move. While Victoria knew that her recent branding as 'killer' would inevitably lead to a shift in her instincts when it came to things like this, it didn't make any sense for her to get there until absolutely necessary. One could explain away a kill as self-defense, announcement or not. But two kills?
At that point, a pattern was established and no amount of talking could make it go away. Not to mention, when it came to talking - that wasn't exactly Victoria's strong point. However inevitable the possibility seemed, that she wasn't dismissing it out of hand continued to unsettle her. She surmised that many people would have accepted the dismal reality of their situation and used it to strike out against their oppressors, their antagonists, the classmates that had once bullied them-
Victoria's eyes widened a bit in realization as the proverbial puzzle piece slid into place. That was where she recognized Molly from; of course. It had been many years ago and she'd generally just ignored it, but Victoria Amaro and Molly McKenzie had in fact crossed paths before. The situations had been reversed; Molly armed with a verbal cannon and a myriad of ammunition to use to taunt her with.
The girl had already started to make her way towards her perceived destination and Victoria watched her go for a moment.
"Wait."
The memories came back to her slowly, the blocks eroding gradually like that of the sides of a muddy embankment. The more that she remembered, the more that her mental picture sharpened, remembering the catcalls and jousts about her personality.
"You were a bully. Years ago, you made fun of me, didn't you?"
Again, there was an absence of malice in Victoria's voice, as she sought confirmation rather than vindication.
The proclamation was matter-of-fact, absent of malice. The fact was, she spoke only the truth. Were her instinctual reaction to be to kill first and deal with the repercussions at a later date, there would have been no time for discussion. The report of the weapon's discharge would have been all the discourse that she would have needed.
But that wasn't how people operated in a civilized situation. It may have felt like they were in a warzone - goodness knew that they essentially lived in one - but logically it still felt like the wrong move. While Victoria knew that her recent branding as 'killer' would inevitably lead to a shift in her instincts when it came to things like this, it didn't make any sense for her to get there until absolutely necessary. One could explain away a kill as self-defense, announcement or not. But two kills?
At that point, a pattern was established and no amount of talking could make it go away. Not to mention, when it came to talking - that wasn't exactly Victoria's strong point. However inevitable the possibility seemed, that she wasn't dismissing it out of hand continued to unsettle her. She surmised that many people would have accepted the dismal reality of their situation and used it to strike out against their oppressors, their antagonists, the classmates that had once bullied them-
Victoria's eyes widened a bit in realization as the proverbial puzzle piece slid into place. That was where she recognized Molly from; of course. It had been many years ago and she'd generally just ignored it, but Victoria Amaro and Molly McKenzie had in fact crossed paths before. The situations had been reversed; Molly armed with a verbal cannon and a myriad of ammunition to use to taunt her with.
The girl had already started to make her way towards her perceived destination and Victoria watched her go for a moment.
"Wait."
The memories came back to her slowly, the blocks eroding gradually like that of the sides of a muddy embankment. The more that she remembered, the more that her mental picture sharpened, remembering the catcalls and jousts about her personality.
"You were a bully. Years ago, you made fun of me, didn't you?"
Again, there was an absence of malice in Victoria's voice, as she sought confirmation rather than vindication.
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
How can anyone be so cold, calm, and calculated here? It was like some people like Victoria didn't think this was real, like this was just a dream. Well, surprise, it was NOT. This wasn't even a nightmare, as nightmares at least had some sort of dissociation, this was real, and it felt real. Victoria said that as if logic still applied here. Sure, shooting someone on first sight was probably the most logical thing, after all, no one normal wanted to die. But....maybe, that was what Victoria wanted Molly to believe! To lure Molly in a false sense of security, and then...
Molly, without another word, ran past Victoria. That girl might not have intending to use her gun, but when someone has a weapon of mass destruction, it was best to run. Run like hell itself was chasing her, because if she got a bullet in the head, for sure, that was where she was going to go. She seemed to give little to her safety while running ironically enough, she ran so quickly there were multiple close calls from falling hard face first on the floor, her gait and posture were extremely uneven and unstable.
And then, she stopped, her posture immediately stiffened. Molly felt her ice cold sweat. Flight, or fight? Escape, or justify herself?
Molly knew this would happen. She would encounter one of those freaks at school, and Molly tried to convince herself that she had a good weapon, but no, now some evil power above gave a gross person a weapon of capable of equally gross damage. Molly turned around, her face contorted and stiff.
Who was Victoria, Molly couldn't really remember. There were so many weirdos, psychos and freaks at school, she couldn't remember everyone. Filthy party animal skank? No. Psychotic obsessive stalker? No. Creepy, snitching goody two shoes? No. Two faced bullying prick? Wait, no, that was Molly. Antisocial, unsettling, cloudy-headed loser? That rung a bell.
Ohhhh. Molly remembered now. Victoria was always the girl in the social circle who was just...there, eerily just there, not talking, barely contributing to friendships. Molly remembered Victoria's vacant, reality-less expressions, completely submerged in her own imagination, barely paying any attention to more important things like getting a life.
Molly, once again, felt tears run out, although not crocodile tears for once. Her face scrunched up into a melodramatically emotional expression, meant to gather pity. Her voice had a whiny, sad tone to it, and she spoke panically.
"...Yeah...Bu-but, I changed, okay!? I was stupid, and insecure, and it was a while ago! If I ever called you anything or did anything like gossip about you, I'm..."
Molly said something she did not believe. An empty, rehearsed promise that was broken to the point to being unrecognisable.
"I'm...sorry."
Molly, without another word, ran past Victoria. That girl might not have intending to use her gun, but when someone has a weapon of mass destruction, it was best to run. Run like hell itself was chasing her, because if she got a bullet in the head, for sure, that was where she was going to go. She seemed to give little to her safety while running ironically enough, she ran so quickly there were multiple close calls from falling hard face first on the floor, her gait and posture were extremely uneven and unstable.
And then, she stopped, her posture immediately stiffened. Molly felt her ice cold sweat. Flight, or fight? Escape, or justify herself?
Molly knew this would happen. She would encounter one of those freaks at school, and Molly tried to convince herself that she had a good weapon, but no, now some evil power above gave a gross person a weapon of capable of equally gross damage. Molly turned around, her face contorted and stiff.
Who was Victoria, Molly couldn't really remember. There were so many weirdos, psychos and freaks at school, she couldn't remember everyone. Filthy party animal skank? No. Psychotic obsessive stalker? No. Creepy, snitching goody two shoes? No. Two faced bullying prick? Wait, no, that was Molly. Antisocial, unsettling, cloudy-headed loser? That rung a bell.
Ohhhh. Molly remembered now. Victoria was always the girl in the social circle who was just...there, eerily just there, not talking, barely contributing to friendships. Molly remembered Victoria's vacant, reality-less expressions, completely submerged in her own imagination, barely paying any attention to more important things like getting a life.
Molly, once again, felt tears run out, although not crocodile tears for once. Her face scrunched up into a melodramatically emotional expression, meant to gather pity. Her voice had a whiny, sad tone to it, and she spoke panically.
"...Yeah...Bu-but, I changed, okay!? I was stupid, and insecure, and it was a while ago! If I ever called you anything or did anything like gossip about you, I'm..."
Molly said something she did not believe. An empty, rehearsed promise that was broken to the point to being unrecognisable.
"I'm...sorry."
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Victoria considered the flood of words and emotions that spilled out of the girl, taking in the apology. After a moment, she shook her head slightly, her expression still neutral.
"No, you're not. But that's okay," she looked downward at the weapon in her hands, still trained upon Molly. "It doesn't matter."
The confirmation didn't make her feel any better about her current situation - it didn't even make her feel much better about the past, either. The truth was, Victoria had just dismissed the taunts and insults of the other girls out of hand. All they could say were words and words were simply a series of sounds that one made using their vocal cords, their larynx, and their mouth. To affix meaning to words that were stated by people she didn't care about; it was a foolish endeavour. Victoria had simply always cared far more about other things and the only people whose opinion meant anything were her immediate family members. Had one of the twins chastised her or ridiculed her, that would have been a different story. They knew what kind of buttons to push, the sorts of things that would really get a reaction from her.
People like Molly McKenzie? They didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. At least, that's how Victoria had seen it, up until now. She supposed that circumstances had changed a little. The odds were that one of the classmates she'd dismissed out of hand would likely be the cause of her death, barring something miraculous.
It made petty squabbles and childish bullying feel all the more worthless in her eyes.
Gesturing to the building, Victoria finally lowered the weapon.
"Go. I won't stop you."
The danger level from someone like Molly McKenzie was low; negligible even. This was the kind of girl that wouldn't attack anyone unless absolutely provoked; more likely to roll over and die rather than fight for her life. She seemed to have a rather low threshold for dealing with stress.
If Victoria was being honest with herself, she didn't see Molly being the kind of person who would last more than a day here, at most. Other people had undoubtedly decided to be proactive about eliminating the competition and now that night had fallen, there was more of a chance for accidents to happen. It would be simple to wander right into someone's hiding spot in the dark and be forced onto the offensive without ever knowing who your enemy was. The next time she surmised Molly would come across another student, she would almost surely die. Victoria saw that as a near-certainty.
Thinking for another moment, the salvage yard suddenly didn't seem as secure as it had only hours before. With someone else taking shelter nearby, particularly someone that she saw as a liability, the smart call would be to keep moving. There were risks, of course, but with a bulletproof vest and a formidable weapon, she knew that she was the one that other students would likely fear running into during the long, dark night.
Victoria, the killer; still didn't know how to feel about that fact.
Grabbing her pack from the ground beside her, Victoria didn't wait for Molly to react or say anything more. Instead, she simply set out the other way, disappearing into the darkness of the salvage yard and leaving the frightened girl behind.
((Victoria Amaro continued elsewhere))
"No, you're not. But that's okay," she looked downward at the weapon in her hands, still trained upon Molly. "It doesn't matter."
The confirmation didn't make her feel any better about her current situation - it didn't even make her feel much better about the past, either. The truth was, Victoria had just dismissed the taunts and insults of the other girls out of hand. All they could say were words and words were simply a series of sounds that one made using their vocal cords, their larynx, and their mouth. To affix meaning to words that were stated by people she didn't care about; it was a foolish endeavour. Victoria had simply always cared far more about other things and the only people whose opinion meant anything were her immediate family members. Had one of the twins chastised her or ridiculed her, that would have been a different story. They knew what kind of buttons to push, the sorts of things that would really get a reaction from her.
People like Molly McKenzie? They didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. At least, that's how Victoria had seen it, up until now. She supposed that circumstances had changed a little. The odds were that one of the classmates she'd dismissed out of hand would likely be the cause of her death, barring something miraculous.
It made petty squabbles and childish bullying feel all the more worthless in her eyes.
Gesturing to the building, Victoria finally lowered the weapon.
"Go. I won't stop you."
The danger level from someone like Molly McKenzie was low; negligible even. This was the kind of girl that wouldn't attack anyone unless absolutely provoked; more likely to roll over and die rather than fight for her life. She seemed to have a rather low threshold for dealing with stress.
If Victoria was being honest with herself, she didn't see Molly being the kind of person who would last more than a day here, at most. Other people had undoubtedly decided to be proactive about eliminating the competition and now that night had fallen, there was more of a chance for accidents to happen. It would be simple to wander right into someone's hiding spot in the dark and be forced onto the offensive without ever knowing who your enemy was. The next time she surmised Molly would come across another student, she would almost surely die. Victoria saw that as a near-certainty.
Thinking for another moment, the salvage yard suddenly didn't seem as secure as it had only hours before. With someone else taking shelter nearby, particularly someone that she saw as a liability, the smart call would be to keep moving. There were risks, of course, but with a bulletproof vest and a formidable weapon, she knew that she was the one that other students would likely fear running into during the long, dark night.
Victoria, the killer; still didn't know how to feel about that fact.
Grabbing her pack from the ground beside her, Victoria didn't wait for Molly to react or say anything more. Instead, she simply set out the other way, disappearing into the darkness of the salvage yard and leaving the frightened girl behind.
((Victoria Amaro continued elsewhere))
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
"No, you're not?", that was new, and if someone didn't accept her apology, then it must have been behind her back. No one would ever say something like that to her face, and that french prick? She wasn't even English, so her opinion didn't matter. Molly flinched for a moment, her expression stiff with shock once she heard that, and she instinctually put her duffel bag besides her and Victoria.
"But that's okay." Molly was grateful, but confused. So, after insult after insults, ranging from questioning her mental health to her parents, Victoria...forgave her? No, forgiving wasn't the word, rather, Victoria didn't give a care in the world to what she said. Hard skin, or hard of hearing? Molly didn't care anymore. Her words were her crutch back in the normal world, a way she could feel powerful, that she could influence people. But they meant nothing here. Words did not matter, only actions did.
Molly wanted to say thanks, for just a moment, for Victoria allowing a whiny girl like her to live another day. But then, she thought rationally, and decided it was only decency to not shoot someone when they're down. So what Victoria did was nothing to be proud of. In fact, Molly should have been ashamed that if she was in Victoria's position, she would not have done at the same.
Or would she? Molly didn't know. She wanted to survive, but to...kill a friend? She wasn't sure. She'll have to live with the guilt forever, and even if she lived, she'll always be known as the traitorous girl who killed others to save herself. But maybe, a bad reputation was better then none. Better then a reputation of a high school has-been. Maybe, people will forgive her, pity the fallen queen bee who fought to come back.
Of course, Molly knew she won't live, she won't be the one to return safely. But she wanted to hang on to that hope, as irrational as it was. She won't will survive.
And with, Victoria out of sight, off to point that gun at someone else, Molly ran for it. Seeing the boat shed in view, Molly ran through a large hole in the barbed fence that offered no protection. (Grazing her ankle on a rusty barb in the process, which also ripped a large ladder in her stockings) But she didn't care. This building was safe, and with just a little boarding up of the holes, it would be her paradise in this hellhole. All for herself.
((Molly McKenzie continued in Drowning in a Hellhole))
"But that's okay." Molly was grateful, but confused. So, after insult after insults, ranging from questioning her mental health to her parents, Victoria...forgave her? No, forgiving wasn't the word, rather, Victoria didn't give a care in the world to what she said. Hard skin, or hard of hearing? Molly didn't care anymore. Her words were her crutch back in the normal world, a way she could feel powerful, that she could influence people. But they meant nothing here. Words did not matter, only actions did.
Molly wanted to say thanks, for just a moment, for Victoria allowing a whiny girl like her to live another day. But then, she thought rationally, and decided it was only decency to not shoot someone when they're down. So what Victoria did was nothing to be proud of. In fact, Molly should have been ashamed that if she was in Victoria's position, she would not have done at the same.
Or would she? Molly didn't know. She wanted to survive, but to...kill a friend? She wasn't sure. She'll have to live with the guilt forever, and even if she lived, she'll always be known as the traitorous girl who killed others to save herself. But maybe, a bad reputation was better then none. Better then a reputation of a high school has-been. Maybe, people will forgive her, pity the fallen queen bee who fought to come back.
Of course, Molly knew she won't live, she won't be the one to return safely. But she wanted to hang on to that hope, as irrational as it was. She won't will survive.
And with, Victoria out of sight, off to point that gun at someone else, Molly ran for it. Seeing the boat shed in view, Molly ran through a large hole in the barbed fence that offered no protection. (Grazing her ankle on a rusty barb in the process, which also ripped a large ladder in her stockings) But she didn't care. This building was safe, and with just a little boarding up of the holes, it would be her paradise in this hellhole. All for herself.
((Molly McKenzie continued in Drowning in a Hellhole))