((Ambrose Lexington continued from Where The Flower Goes to Die))
Ambrose finished wrapping the bandage around his head. As he did, he leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. This was humiliating. He lost so ridiculously hard to that minority girl and nearly died over it. Now he had a nice scar running along the side of his skull and a near useless arm. Not only that, but he had hacked up a bit of blood just trying to inhale through his nose. He grit his teeth and let out a long moan of frustration.
After getting away from the barricade, Ambrose returned to the neighborhood he was in previously and made his way back to Tristana's. He had climbed his way up the stairs to the apartment above the cafe and locked himself in. After that, he got to work.
Ambrose didn't have much experience with first aid, especially nothing this complicated and to be done with his non-dominant hand. He also learned that, in his attempts to do the first aid he had seen in movies, it was going to be less than easy. Ambrose nearly passed out just trying to pull the bullet out of his shoulder. He eventually had to gag his mouth with a dishcloth from the kitchen just to keep himself quiet, as if his own voice was annoying him.
Even worse was the lack of materials for some of what he needed. With a fucked up shoulder, he knew he'd need a sling, but there wasn't one available. The best he could do after bandaging the wound (no way was he going to be able to stitch a wound one handed) was to take a blanket from the sofa and try to cut it up with the scissors from the kit. He even had to use part of his suit jacket to have something strong. It looked rough, but he managed to make a sling with some knots holding his arm up.
After that, it was just about sterilizing and bandaging his nose and head wound. Once he was done, Ambrose couldn't help but take a look in the mirror in the kitchen.
He looked like shit. The bandage around his head had pushed his hair up, making it look much messier and uncultured. The bandage across his nose hid some of the bruising and swelling from having his nose broken, making the area of skin look discolored. He had done his best to wipe away any blood that was on his face, but there were still some hints of red on his skin, making it look like he had a bit of a rash.
As for his shoulder, it was not at all fun to look at. His jacket and shirt were basically bloody messes because of the injuries. He had already discarded the jacket to make the sling, but he couldn't really wear the collared shirt. This left him in a (mostly untouched) white undershirt. He had to be glad they decided to put The Program closer to the equator so that he wouldn't be too uncomfortable. It still pissed him off that all of this happened in the last hour or so.
Ambrose shifted in his seat, pushing aside the trash from the med kit, jacket, and blanket off the kitchen table. He had greatly overestimated that girl and now he was down an arm and his face was fucked up. He could still stab someone to death if needed, but with his lousy left hand doing the work, it wasn't likely to work out as well.
He groaned. He grabbed the chef's knife and stabbed it into the kitchen table. He looked at the knife sticking upright on the kitchen table. Next time he saw that girl, he'd make sure to plunge that knife right into her heart.
Viridiana
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours), Open
Viridiana
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Catche Jagger
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((Muhammad "Mo" Abbasi: Start))
Mo was almost out the door by the time his mother managed to catch up to him.
“Why such a hurry?” She asked from behind him.
Mo knew that his mother already knew the answer to her question and just wanted to speak with him about Announcement Day. She always avoided being direct with her questions, and it never failed to frustrate the teenager. Still, he relented, and turned to face her.
“Look, I just want to go to school and get this over with. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine.” He replied in an attempt to reassure her. He looked down at his mother, whose head only reached his chest, and saw that her eyes were welling up again.
“It’s...” he began, before his mother gestured for him to stop.
“Muhammad, you are my son. It’s impossible for me to not worry.” She replied with a sad smile. She had been alone in her attempts to wrangle her son this morning, Mo’s father being too upset about the day to even see him. However, now that she had the boy paying attention, she spoke slowly, seemingly struggling to find the right words.
Then, she wrapped her arms around Mo and held him tight.
“You are a good boy Muhammad.” She said, not releasing her grip. “You are brave, strong, intelligent, and one of the kindest people I know.”
A quivering sigh escaped his mother’s lips and Mo could tell that she was trying to stop herself from crying. Closing his eyes, he returned his mother’s embrace, breathing slowly and gently.
“I love you. Your father does too, even if he can’t show it right now.” She continued, her hold weakening. “I just want you to know that.”
“I love you too, both of you.” Mo smiled, stepping away from the woman before him. “Besides, you don’t need to worry. I’ll be seeing you tonight.”
As Mo turned to leave, his mother seemed like she had wanted to say something else. Perhaps it was some blessing that she realized her son might not appreciate, since she seemed to quickly relent.
Instead she simply called out, “Good luck.”
~~~
Mo hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that last talk with his mother ever since he had woken up. It had been a few hours since then, time which he had mostly spent wandering about the southern district of the arena. By a combination of sheer luck and a conscious effort to keep himself hidden, the young athlete had yet to encounter any other students.
He glanced down at the hatchet in his right hand. It wasn’t a gun, but he knew that it would get the job done if push came to shove.
Get the job done? You mean murder, right? The thought made Mo a bit weak in the knees. How was he going to do this? Was he going to have to kill one of his own classmates? One of his friends?
As he walked past a cafe, however, he heard what sounded like a bit of a commotion coming from inside. It was probably nothing, but Mo knew that he couldn’t keep avoiding everyone else forever. He had to either find some allies or start playing eventually.
Hatchet slightly trembling in his hand, Mo stepped up to the café doorway. He glanced inside, making sure to take in the whole front room. Not a soul seemed present, and Mo decided that perhaps he should step inside.
Stepping across the room, he noticed a staircase, meaning that there still could be someone upstairs. Still wary at the possibility of some gung-ho killer lurking around up there, Mo decided to squat beneath the stairs before calling out, “Hello? Anyone up there? Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a fight.”
Mo was almost out the door by the time his mother managed to catch up to him.
“Why such a hurry?” She asked from behind him.
Mo knew that his mother already knew the answer to her question and just wanted to speak with him about Announcement Day. She always avoided being direct with her questions, and it never failed to frustrate the teenager. Still, he relented, and turned to face her.
“Look, I just want to go to school and get this over with. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine.” He replied in an attempt to reassure her. He looked down at his mother, whose head only reached his chest, and saw that her eyes were welling up again.
“It’s...” he began, before his mother gestured for him to stop.
“Muhammad, you are my son. It’s impossible for me to not worry.” She replied with a sad smile. She had been alone in her attempts to wrangle her son this morning, Mo’s father being too upset about the day to even see him. However, now that she had the boy paying attention, she spoke slowly, seemingly struggling to find the right words.
Then, she wrapped her arms around Mo and held him tight.
“You are a good boy Muhammad.” She said, not releasing her grip. “You are brave, strong, intelligent, and one of the kindest people I know.”
A quivering sigh escaped his mother’s lips and Mo could tell that she was trying to stop herself from crying. Closing his eyes, he returned his mother’s embrace, breathing slowly and gently.
“I love you. Your father does too, even if he can’t show it right now.” She continued, her hold weakening. “I just want you to know that.”
“I love you too, both of you.” Mo smiled, stepping away from the woman before him. “Besides, you don’t need to worry. I’ll be seeing you tonight.”
As Mo turned to leave, his mother seemed like she had wanted to say something else. Perhaps it was some blessing that she realized her son might not appreciate, since she seemed to quickly relent.
Instead she simply called out, “Good luck.”
~~~
Mo hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that last talk with his mother ever since he had woken up. It had been a few hours since then, time which he had mostly spent wandering about the southern district of the arena. By a combination of sheer luck and a conscious effort to keep himself hidden, the young athlete had yet to encounter any other students.
He glanced down at the hatchet in his right hand. It wasn’t a gun, but he knew that it would get the job done if push came to shove.
Get the job done? You mean murder, right? The thought made Mo a bit weak in the knees. How was he going to do this? Was he going to have to kill one of his own classmates? One of his friends?
As he walked past a cafe, however, he heard what sounded like a bit of a commotion coming from inside. It was probably nothing, but Mo knew that he couldn’t keep avoiding everyone else forever. He had to either find some allies or start playing eventually.
Hatchet slightly trembling in his hand, Mo stepped up to the café doorway. He glanced inside, making sure to take in the whole front room. Not a soul seemed present, and Mo decided that perhaps he should step inside.
Stepping across the room, he noticed a staircase, meaning that there still could be someone upstairs. Still wary at the possibility of some gung-ho killer lurking around up there, Mo decided to squat beneath the stairs before calling out, “Hello? Anyone up there? Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a fight.”
And just like that, the peace was broken. Ambrose quickly pulled the knife out of the table and held it in his hand. Someone was at the bottom of the staircase shouting up. The last thing he needed was some asshole to come barging up the stairs right when he was on the mend.
Ambrose quietly got up from his seat and moved towards the door, keeping the chef's knife up. He tried not to make any loud steps as he made his way over. If this person was looking for trouble, Ambrose had to hope they would go away if they heard nothing.
Ambrose reached for the door handle and slowly turned it. Sure enough, it was still locked. He turned it enough so it wouldn't make any noise. That assurance made Ambrose feel a lot better.
Now all he had to do was make sure the guy would just go away. He turned the knife in his hand, trying to not hurt his hand too much with his grip. Unfortunately, his left hand had been aching a bit, and in his attempt to shift the knife slightly in his hand, the knife dropped from his grip and landed right onto the floor. Ambrose jumped a bit as the knife hit the floor. He didn't get stabbed in the foot, but he knew making a noise like that would surely attract the person at the bottom of the stairs to investigate.
"Goddammit, I'm way better than this," Ambrose muttered to himself.
Ambrose quietly got up from his seat and moved towards the door, keeping the chef's knife up. He tried not to make any loud steps as he made his way over. If this person was looking for trouble, Ambrose had to hope they would go away if they heard nothing.
Ambrose reached for the door handle and slowly turned it. Sure enough, it was still locked. He turned it enough so it wouldn't make any noise. That assurance made Ambrose feel a lot better.
Now all he had to do was make sure the guy would just go away. He turned the knife in his hand, trying to not hurt his hand too much with his grip. Unfortunately, his left hand had been aching a bit, and in his attempt to shift the knife slightly in his hand, the knife dropped from his grip and landed right onto the floor. Ambrose jumped a bit as the knife hit the floor. He didn't get stabbed in the foot, but he knew making a noise like that would surely attract the person at the bottom of the stairs to investigate.
"Goddammit, I'm way better than this," Ambrose muttered to himself.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Catche Jagger
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After a few moments of silence, Mo heard the sound of clattering metal coming from the top of the staircase. It was clear that either something had gone wrong or whoever was up there wasn’t planning on playing nice. After some brief consideration, Mo stepped out from his hiding spot and approached the bottom of the stairs.
He saw that the landing of the upper floor seemed empty, meaning that the mystery person was probably in some room or alcove near the top. He considered leaving, but now that the other student knew that he was here, they could very easily ambush him from behind. I'm going to need to check it out, he thought, feeling quite resigned.
He attempted to head up as quietly as possible, but the moment that his first foot touched the bottom step, a sharp creak echoed across the stairway.
Perfect.
Slowly making his way to the top, hatchet ever at the ready, Mo called out once more, “Hello? I’m not looking to fight you. I just want to make sure everything’s alright.”
As he reached the top of the stairs, Mo found himself next to a door. He thought about just barging in there and holding the person at bay with his weapon, but he had no idea what the situation was like in there. What if there was more than one? What if they had a gun?
“I just want to talk for a second, then I’ll leave you alone. Got to make sure I’m not gonna get attacked from behind or anything. Just slowly open the door and step into view. I promise I won’t try anything if you don’t.” Mo tried to keep his voice as calm and soothing as possible, but this was extremely difficult considering his current circumstances.
He gripped his hatchet tight, readying himself in case some maniac came charging out at him.
One hope held firm in his mind: Please don’t be stupid
He saw that the landing of the upper floor seemed empty, meaning that the mystery person was probably in some room or alcove near the top. He considered leaving, but now that the other student knew that he was here, they could very easily ambush him from behind. I'm going to need to check it out, he thought, feeling quite resigned.
He attempted to head up as quietly as possible, but the moment that his first foot touched the bottom step, a sharp creak echoed across the stairway.
Perfect.
Slowly making his way to the top, hatchet ever at the ready, Mo called out once more, “Hello? I’m not looking to fight you. I just want to make sure everything’s alright.”
As he reached the top of the stairs, Mo found himself next to a door. He thought about just barging in there and holding the person at bay with his weapon, but he had no idea what the situation was like in there. What if there was more than one? What if they had a gun?
“I just want to talk for a second, then I’ll leave you alone. Got to make sure I’m not gonna get attacked from behind or anything. Just slowly open the door and step into view. I promise I won’t try anything if you don’t.” Mo tried to keep his voice as calm and soothing as possible, but this was extremely difficult considering his current circumstances.
He gripped his hatchet tight, readying himself in case some maniac came charging out at him.
One hope held firm in his mind: Please don’t be stupid
Ambrose could hear the person approaching the door of the apartment. He couldn't tell who was behind the door, other than that it was a guy who was foolishly trusting and looking to have a chat. Ambrose didn't want to have a chat with anyone, not after his last conversation went so poorly. He was 50-50 on conversations going his way so far, so the last thing he'd do was tip it unfavorably.
Ambrose pressed his body against the door, trying as hard as he could with a messed up arm. He needed to make sure the asshole wouldn't try to force his way in.
"Sorry," Ambrose said, his voice sounding weird now that his nose was busted, "but the last person I tried to talk to nearly killed me. I'm not feeling up to trusting people so quickly."
Ambrose tightened his grip on the knife. Maybe he could stick it under the door and slash at the guy. He then realized how unlikely that was to actually hurt someone. That's when he realized there was something better he could use to scare them away.
"I've got a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it. So just prance back down the stairs and find another place to squat."
Ambrose hoped that would intimidate the guy. At the very least, he hoped that guy didn't have a gun either and didn't decide to fire through the door just because he could.
Ambrose pressed his body against the door, trying as hard as he could with a messed up arm. He needed to make sure the asshole wouldn't try to force his way in.
"Sorry," Ambrose said, his voice sounding weird now that his nose was busted, "but the last person I tried to talk to nearly killed me. I'm not feeling up to trusting people so quickly."
Ambrose tightened his grip on the knife. Maybe he could stick it under the door and slash at the guy. He then realized how unlikely that was to actually hurt someone. That's when he realized there was something better he could use to scare them away.
"I've got a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it. So just prance back down the stairs and find another place to squat."
Ambrose hoped that would intimidate the guy. At the very least, he hoped that guy didn't have a gun either and didn't decide to fire through the door just because he could.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Catche Jagger
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Judging from his remarks and voice, Mo assumed that the mystery kid was a guy that had just recently gotten the shit kicked out of him and was still hurting pretty bad. He felt a certain degree of pity for the injured stranger, locked away upstairs. That is, of course, until the threat came.
A gun? There was no way Mo could tangle with a man that had a loaded gun, and he wasn’t going to stick his neck out for someone who clearly didn’t want help. Lowering his hatchet, he decided that it was probably for the best to just give up on this one.
“Alright,” He replied with a sigh, “have it your way.” The teenager began to step away, before deciding on one last addition, “But if you try to come after me, you should know that I will not hesitate to remove your head from your damn body.” It was a bit over-the-top, but he didn’t want some desperate, injured psycho trying to sneak up on him with a gun.
With that, Mo began to make his way down the stairs, keeping an eye firmly locked on the doorway.
A gun? There was no way Mo could tangle with a man that had a loaded gun, and he wasn’t going to stick his neck out for someone who clearly didn’t want help. Lowering his hatchet, he decided that it was probably for the best to just give up on this one.
“Alright,” He replied with a sigh, “have it your way.” The teenager began to step away, before deciding on one last addition, “But if you try to come after me, you should know that I will not hesitate to remove your head from your damn body.” It was a bit over-the-top, but he didn’t want some desperate, injured psycho trying to sneak up on him with a gun.
With that, Mo began to make his way down the stairs, keeping an eye firmly locked on the doorway.
Okay, it looked like the guy was willing to turn back and go away. The moron must have easily bought that he had a gun. What an idiot. It was so easy to deceive the stupid and send them away in this game. Now Ambrose was free to knock back some painkillers and sleep for a few hours.
Still, it kinda bothered him this guy was that idiotic. Obviously, Ambrose wasn't going to try killing him in a state like this, but he wanted to at least screw with him. Make him realize that he bought an easy lie and was still not getting into the apartment. But how?
Ambrose looked around his immediate area. On the end table by the door was a small bowl. It looked like the kind of dish people threw loose change and keys into when they walked into their home. It was a small little ceramic dish, probably made by some poor artisan in this town. That's when Ambrose knew what to do.
He set the knife down on the counter, picked up the bowl with his slung hand, and unlocked the door with his other hand. He opened the door slightly and tossed the bowl out the door. He then quickly slammed the door shut and locked it again, grabbing the knife.
"That's right!" Ambrose shouted through the door. "Now you know!"
Still, it kinda bothered him this guy was that idiotic. Obviously, Ambrose wasn't going to try killing him in a state like this, but he wanted to at least screw with him. Make him realize that he bought an easy lie and was still not getting into the apartment. But how?
Ambrose looked around his immediate area. On the end table by the door was a small bowl. It looked like the kind of dish people threw loose change and keys into when they walked into their home. It was a small little ceramic dish, probably made by some poor artisan in this town. That's when Ambrose knew what to do.
He set the knife down on the counter, picked up the bowl with his slung hand, and unlocked the door with his other hand. He opened the door slightly and tossed the bowl out the door. He then quickly slammed the door shut and locked it again, grabbing the knife.
"That's right!" Ambrose shouted through the door. "Now you know!"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Catche Jagger
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Just as Mo was about leave, he heard something clatter to the ground behind him. Turning around, all he saw was a plain dish slowly rolling down the stairway.
Immediately following this sight, Mo heard the voice from inside the room call out “That’s right! Now you know!”
Staring for a moment at the plate as it rolled to a halt on the floor, Mo had only one thought in his mind: Did that near death experience involve some sort of head injury?
The thought brought a twinge of pity for the poor bastard, and for a brief moment, he considered making another attempt to talk to him one more time. However, he knew that if the mystery boy had actually been messed up, he could just shoot Mo. No matter how good your intentions, one could only go so far on good intentions in The Program, or so the young athlete presumed. He did, however, decide to give one last piece of advice.
“Hey. If you’re hurt as bad as you say, you’re not going to last long on your own. Just a bit of advice.” He called upstairs, before turning to depart from the cafe.
Considering this is The Program, things could’ve gone worse… He tried to encourage himself as he continued on his way. But seriously, what an asshole.
((Muhammad Abbasi continued in Chill and Rigor))
Immediately following this sight, Mo heard the voice from inside the room call out “That’s right! Now you know!”
Staring for a moment at the plate as it rolled to a halt on the floor, Mo had only one thought in his mind: Did that near death experience involve some sort of head injury?
The thought brought a twinge of pity for the poor bastard, and for a brief moment, he considered making another attempt to talk to him one more time. However, he knew that if the mystery boy had actually been messed up, he could just shoot Mo. No matter how good your intentions, one could only go so far on good intentions in The Program, or so the young athlete presumed. He did, however, decide to give one last piece of advice.
“Hey. If you’re hurt as bad as you say, you’re not going to last long on your own. Just a bit of advice.” He called upstairs, before turning to depart from the cafe.
Considering this is The Program, things could’ve gone worse… He tried to encourage himself as he continued on his way. But seriously, what an asshole.
((Muhammad Abbasi continued in Chill and Rigor))
Ambrose chuckled to himself as the guy left some parting words. It sounded like he was going away, so it wasn't like Ambrose would have to worry about him much longer. Now he had peace and quiet again.
"Wow. Way to tell me what I already know," Ambrose said to himself.
Ambrose had to think of what to do properly. He had a fucked up shoulder and nose, and only a combat weapon at his defense. He was likely to lose any major combat scenarios he got into. All he had at his disposal was an apartment with one entrance that he had locked. He was sealed in tight, but unless people like the stair-gremlin came by, he'd have to deal with ambiguously-hostile people.
But then again, maybe he didn't have to. The only way into the apartment was a door he had locked. There wasn't a collar around his neck to force him to leave any time soon. He could stay here as long as he wanted. That was permitted in the game, after all. Hiding out and fortifying a base was a military tactic he could get behind. Besides, with his health in shambles, he was allowed to be on the mend.
Thus, Ambrose grabbed a chair in the living room and jammed it under the doorknob for extra protection. Then, he walked around the apartment and drew all the curtains he saw. Now, if anyone saw Tristana's, they'd just assume it was a plain old cafe with a locked apartment. No one had to know he was there.
Besides, he was feeling a bit groggy, so an uninterrupted nap would be appreciated. Ambrose walked to the tiny bedroom and plopped under the blanket, peacefully staring at the ceiling until he drifted off.
Maybe this was the best strategy for him.
((Ambrose Lexington continued elsewhere))
"Wow. Way to tell me what I already know," Ambrose said to himself.
Ambrose had to think of what to do properly. He had a fucked up shoulder and nose, and only a combat weapon at his defense. He was likely to lose any major combat scenarios he got into. All he had at his disposal was an apartment with one entrance that he had locked. He was sealed in tight, but unless people like the stair-gremlin came by, he'd have to deal with ambiguously-hostile people.
But then again, maybe he didn't have to. The only way into the apartment was a door he had locked. There wasn't a collar around his neck to force him to leave any time soon. He could stay here as long as he wanted. That was permitted in the game, after all. Hiding out and fortifying a base was a military tactic he could get behind. Besides, with his health in shambles, he was allowed to be on the mend.
Thus, Ambrose grabbed a chair in the living room and jammed it under the doorknob for extra protection. Then, he walked around the apartment and drew all the curtains he saw. Now, if anyone saw Tristana's, they'd just assume it was a plain old cafe with a locked apartment. No one had to know he was there.
Besides, he was feeling a bit groggy, so an uninterrupted nap would be appreciated. Ambrose walked to the tiny bedroom and plopped under the blanket, peacefully staring at the ceiling until he drifted off.
Maybe this was the best strategy for him.
((Ambrose Lexington continued elsewhere))
G014: Mayumi Tendou