"Howdilly-doodilly, up and at 'em! Good morning, kidlets! My name is Rhiannon Durrett and I'm your host for this morning, but most of you might know me under my cooler name Ritzy Daggers, a name I chose to pick because I wouldn't be an interesting person otherwise. Don't get me wrong, I am actually super boring!
"But not to the audience, anymore! My whole image is fabricated by a marketing team to appeal to younger audiences and I'm always talking excited like this, and never get out of breath, yippie!
"In real life I'm not actually this enthusiastic, I'm actually a super boring person who has no personality whatsoever. I used to run a decent radio show, but decided to switch from DJing to the virtuous job of making tasteless jokes at the expense of dead kids. I got this job by being better than an old senile man, who probably got Alzheimers, so the standard requirements of getting this job are very, very high.
"Now I'm a rich superstar who doesn't need to work hard, because all my bad jokes are written by a staff of writers. I'm Ritzy Daggers and I love money over everything! I'm the prime example of the piece of shit person who turns to SOTF-TV for money!
"But enough about myself, let's read the announcements!
"First we got Calla Evans? That was her name, right? Yeah. Calla got stabbed by Bacchia Rubin, because she was a fucking idiot and didn't leave as she was told to! I guess, Calla was not quite a killa, ha, ha, ha I just made that pun up, look how funny I am. I am Ritzy Daggers and I am the funniest person in the world!
"Next up we got like Seth Dunn and Cassini Evans who also are apparently dead. Uh, I don't know who either got killed by, but hey I named myself after a knife, please think I'm hip and not boring, kidlets!
"That was it for the announcements for the day! The danger zone for today will be your balls, Keegan if you don't wake the fuck up."
~*~
((FR05 Giselle Fillmore continued from MGMT))
Giselle wasn't sure whether it was too early to wake Keegan up. She didn't have a clock on her, but the sun already was up.
She slept like shit.
The pool chair was not the most comfortable bed, but she had the choice between the open-air pool chair bed and sleeping inside where it reeked of vomit and guts. It was cold outside, but using her assigned towel from her bag as a blanket helped her sleeping while not absolutely freezing in the night.
She actually managed to sleep tight for several hours. Her body needed to recover from the last 24 hours. Her mind too. Giselle felt a lot of anger and especially the whole chain of events that happened the past twelve hours made her ask herself whether she should've chosen to pursue a different plan instead. During the night her thoughts drifted to the idea of doing something completely different to what she was doing right now. She wondered if she should've abandoned the Respects and left with Anthony, when they met each other at this very place. Maybe that was what she should've done. Maybe things wouldn't be as shit as they currently were.
But she knew she was doing the right thing. It was tempting to consider alternatives, but she couldn't have joined Anthony anyway after what they'd done to Ivan. She had to pull through. She had to finish what she started. Giselle was never a person who couldn't decide what she'd want to do, she was determined. It was always all or nothing, never something inbetween. She wouldn't jump back and forth. Her decision had been made from the beginning.
In the early morning after a long cycle of sleep where she was completely knocked out by all tiredness of the previous day, her thoughts and doubts plagued her, so she couldn't get back to sleep. The sun and the general coldness of the air didn't help and further woke her up. She decided to wake the others up, in case the announcements would happen soon.
She tried to be as loud and obnoxious as possible, simply to wake herself up, too. And, well, to nail Ritzy's so-called personality.
TV3: The Second Announcement
-
Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
TV3: The Second Announcement
I'm so glad to be back !
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((FR03: Keegan Garcia continue from The Management))
"I'm up, dammit," Keegan grumbled. "Wait, what time is it?"
A day in by now, Keegan was getting a better feel than ever for the other Respects, and he had discovered that in more than one way, Giselle scared him the most. She was the odd one out, the only one who hadn't been there that day in creative writing, the one whose ties to the rest of the group were most nebulous. She was close to Fisk, and she'd stuck by them, but on her own terms. And that was a whole other can of worms: she was an idealist, and her ideals were directly opposed to a bunch of what the lot of them were doing, but she took gleeful part nonetheless. Keegan didn't think anyone else was driven by any sort of grand ideology—by anything, really, besides making the best of a bad situation and keeping their friends safe and maybe a bit by bloodlust when it came to Bacchia and Vasily.
All this was to say, when she alluded to an unfortunate union of shoe and crotch, Keegan wasn't about to call her bluff.
His question about the time was, of course, more or less rhetorical. It was late enough that the sun was up (he'd pulled his towel over his face to try to keep the light out, without even consciously realizing he was doing it, and now had to struggle free from it) and early enough that the real announcements hadn't fired yet. Beyond that, not enough time had passed for him to feel truly rested, but then again he'd spent the night out in the elements on a beach chair where every little twitch of movement sent twinges of agony shooting through him, which meant that achieving deep sleep had been a fool's errand.
It was almost nice by the pool, at least. The dueling odors of pool water and ocean made a mildly nauseating medley, but it was way better than the reek of death. The cruise ship was big enough that the rocking of the waves passed comparatively unnoticed. The plastic straps of the chair felt reassuringly solid, even if they also made him think of this one time he'd gotten his foot stuck in one of these when he was six and his mom had wrenched his ankle while trying to rescue him by lifting him out. He had not yet been attacked by seagulls. The overall humidity was a bitch, and his throat and chest were all gunked up, and coughing hurt like hell because of the gunshot, surprise surprise, but he didn't have that much space to complain. He was having a way better morning than Calla.
The narwhal horn lay next to the chair, poking out from under Keegan's pack, which also kept it from rolling away. He groped for his glasses, which were on top of the pack, got hold of them, put them on, and watched the blurs of nearsightedness transform into the blurs of gunky, ill-rested eyes.
Where did Giselle get all this energy? Keegan wasn't this chipper before ten o'clock ever, not even on his birthday. He pulled himself around until he was sitting, feet flat on the deck. The mask had been wadded up along with some of the clothing from his pack to serve as an impromptu pillow, but now he shook it out, smoothed it, lay it across the chair next to him.
"I guess we made it," he said. "A day. That's something."
It was.
"I'm up, dammit," Keegan grumbled. "Wait, what time is it?"
A day in by now, Keegan was getting a better feel than ever for the other Respects, and he had discovered that in more than one way, Giselle scared him the most. She was the odd one out, the only one who hadn't been there that day in creative writing, the one whose ties to the rest of the group were most nebulous. She was close to Fisk, and she'd stuck by them, but on her own terms. And that was a whole other can of worms: she was an idealist, and her ideals were directly opposed to a bunch of what the lot of them were doing, but she took gleeful part nonetheless. Keegan didn't think anyone else was driven by any sort of grand ideology—by anything, really, besides making the best of a bad situation and keeping their friends safe and maybe a bit by bloodlust when it came to Bacchia and Vasily.
All this was to say, when she alluded to an unfortunate union of shoe and crotch, Keegan wasn't about to call her bluff.
His question about the time was, of course, more or less rhetorical. It was late enough that the sun was up (he'd pulled his towel over his face to try to keep the light out, without even consciously realizing he was doing it, and now had to struggle free from it) and early enough that the real announcements hadn't fired yet. Beyond that, not enough time had passed for him to feel truly rested, but then again he'd spent the night out in the elements on a beach chair where every little twitch of movement sent twinges of agony shooting through him, which meant that achieving deep sleep had been a fool's errand.
It was almost nice by the pool, at least. The dueling odors of pool water and ocean made a mildly nauseating medley, but it was way better than the reek of death. The cruise ship was big enough that the rocking of the waves passed comparatively unnoticed. The plastic straps of the chair felt reassuringly solid, even if they also made him think of this one time he'd gotten his foot stuck in one of these when he was six and his mom had wrenched his ankle while trying to rescue him by lifting him out. He had not yet been attacked by seagulls. The overall humidity was a bitch, and his throat and chest were all gunked up, and coughing hurt like hell because of the gunshot, surprise surprise, but he didn't have that much space to complain. He was having a way better morning than Calla.
The narwhal horn lay next to the chair, poking out from under Keegan's pack, which also kept it from rolling away. He groped for his glasses, which were on top of the pack, got hold of them, put them on, and watched the blurs of nearsightedness transform into the blurs of gunky, ill-rested eyes.
Where did Giselle get all this energy? Keegan wasn't this chipper before ten o'clock ever, not even on his birthday. He pulled himself around until he was sitting, feet flat on the deck. The mask had been wadded up along with some of the clothing from his pack to serve as an impromptu pillow, but now he shook it out, smoothed it, lay it across the chair next to him.
"I guess we made it," he said. "A day. That's something."
It was.
-
Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
She awoke Keegan. That was good.
"I don't know the time. There don't seem to be any clocks around and the sextant doesn't really help in that matter either."
Giselle stretched and yawned a bit. She had changed her clothes before going to bed, so she was wearing clean clothings instead of the bloodied, smelling ones.
She wondered whether the others also were already awake. She was curious whether Fisk or Vasily slept at all or decided to stay up all night. After all, coke or speed were known to help people not sleep. Some party-goers stayed up for days without any sleep with the help of amphetamines.
"You slept well?"
Giselle looked at Keegan who just put on his glasses. Poor guy had been shot yesterday, so he probably had a tough sleep like her, maybe even worse.
"I don't know the time. There don't seem to be any clocks around and the sextant doesn't really help in that matter either."
Giselle stretched and yawned a bit. She had changed her clothes before going to bed, so she was wearing clean clothings instead of the bloodied, smelling ones.
She wondered whether the others also were already awake. She was curious whether Fisk or Vasily slept at all or decided to stay up all night. After all, coke or speed were known to help people not sleep. Some party-goers stayed up for days without any sleep with the help of amphetamines.
"You slept well?"
Giselle looked at Keegan who just put on his glasses. Poor guy had been shot yesterday, so he probably had a tough sleep like her, maybe even worse.
I'm so glad to be back !
((Fisk Bateman continued from Brazil. ))
Fisk stepped out into the sunlight, stretching his shoulders, his left nostril dusty. He uncapped the Gatorade and took a swig. Now that he was up and moving, he could finally savor the soreness he’d received from all of yesterday’s events.
“Good impression; sounds just like her.” Fisk sniffed the residue from five seconds ago off his upper lip. Yup, that was a good wake up. He appreciated Seth’s post humorous gift, just as much as Giselle’s sense of humor.
“You all sleep well?” Fisk asked, figuring they probably didn’t, sleeping outside by a pool, it was probably pretty chilly. “You know there’s a lot of vacant rooms inside the yacht right? Pillows, blankets, your own king size bed...” He hopped onto the beach chair next to the two. “So we’ve all officially made it to day two. Said it last night too, but you guys did great, in case you missed earlier.” Another drink of Gatorade, his throat was dry for ‘no discernible reason’.
“By the way, did I miss the announcements or are we still waiting for it?”
Fisk stepped out into the sunlight, stretching his shoulders, his left nostril dusty. He uncapped the Gatorade and took a swig. Now that he was up and moving, he could finally savor the soreness he’d received from all of yesterday’s events.
“Good impression; sounds just like her.” Fisk sniffed the residue from five seconds ago off his upper lip. Yup, that was a good wake up. He appreciated Seth’s post humorous gift, just as much as Giselle’s sense of humor.
“You all sleep well?” Fisk asked, figuring they probably didn’t, sleeping outside by a pool, it was probably pretty chilly. “You know there’s a lot of vacant rooms inside the yacht right? Pillows, blankets, your own king size bed...” He hopped onto the beach chair next to the two. “So we’ve all officially made it to day two. Said it last night too, but you guys did great, in case you missed earlier.” Another drink of Gatorade, his throat was dry for ‘no discernible reason’.
“By the way, did I miss the announcements or are we still waiting for it?”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"Both," Keegan said, running a hand over his face. His cheeks and chin were getting faintly rough, and he hated it. Shaving was a constant struggle back in the real world, one part of him hating that scraggly scratchy days-overdue feeling, the other too lazy to spend the five minutes to rectify it. Now he didn't have a choice, and that was so much worse. "You want to put on an encore, Giselle?"
Fisk would figure out what Keegan meant, he was sure. And really, if the actual announcements wanted to take a little longer, Keegan was more than happy to let them. The only things that truly mattered, he already knew. The six of them were still alive, in comparatively good condition. They'd accounted for Calla and Seth, and had seen Cassini fall. Besides that, all he was waiting for were two other names: Ivan and Verity. It would be a relief if he heard them on one side, and a complication if they came on the other. Everything besides that, he would try to abstract into numbers and nothing more.
"And I slept, well..."
He shrugged, and it kinda hurt, but that was the story of most movements ever since the incident. It was amazing just how many innocuous little actions apparently jostled things in your side. He'd have to change the bandages and stuff before too long, too—another great thing to look forward to. Goddammit.
"I mean, no, I didn't sleep well," he clarified, "but... It's like, okay, you ever fall asleep at your desk and get those lines on your arms from leaning against it? And end up all sore and you don't get any rest anyways?"
He coughed, ouch, some of that stuffiness rattling around in his throat and lungs.
"Like that, but worse."
Fisk would figure out what Keegan meant, he was sure. And really, if the actual announcements wanted to take a little longer, Keegan was more than happy to let them. The only things that truly mattered, he already knew. The six of them were still alive, in comparatively good condition. They'd accounted for Calla and Seth, and had seen Cassini fall. Besides that, all he was waiting for were two other names: Ivan and Verity. It would be a relief if he heard them on one side, and a complication if they came on the other. Everything besides that, he would try to abstract into numbers and nothing more.
"And I slept, well..."
He shrugged, and it kinda hurt, but that was the story of most movements ever since the incident. It was amazing just how many innocuous little actions apparently jostled things in your side. He'd have to change the bandages and stuff before too long, too—another great thing to look forward to. Goddammit.
"I mean, no, I didn't sleep well," he clarified, "but... It's like, okay, you ever fall asleep at your desk and get those lines on your arms from leaning against it? And end up all sore and you don't get any rest anyways?"
He coughed, ouch, some of that stuffiness rattling around in his throat and lungs.
"Like that, but worse."
-
Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
"No thanks. No encore, I wouldn't be able to speak anymore after that." The impression was a lot of work and energy.
Giselle didn't want to hear any of Keegan's whining about bad sleep, really everyone on this show probably hadn't had the best sleep of their lives considering they could be murdered in their sleep and all. It had been a rhetorical question out of courtesy like 'How was your day' or 'How are you'. You were supposed to simply say 'I had a good day' and 'I'm doing fine' and shut up, instead of giving insights about the monstrous pains of falling asleep during class after spending all the night playing Champions.
She didn't want to hear about Keegan's pain. Giselle didn't want to pity him even though it was very easy to do so. After all, the poor guy had been shot, so he had the right to do so. Keegan definitely was in the worst condition of the six of them, but Giselle would've prefered it if Keegan simply had said something along the lines of 'I feel fine', 'I feel better' or 'I'm feeling fantastic today, my wounds disappeared overnight' and just shut up about his misery.
Giselle genuinely felt worried about Keegan's health. She couldn't help but to feel bad about him and the cough managed to make her pity him. She didn't want Keegan to die, but his poor condition makes her thoughts go into a grim direction with Keegan's possible death. She didn't want that.
Fisk arriving at the pool brought her mind back into reality and away from the scenarios in her head about losing Keegan.
"Nice outfit. The vest really suits you," she said to the man in the costume.
Fisk also was awake, happy as he always is. She noted that the Yacht would be a good place to sleep for the second night, got it. She turned back to Keegan.
"Well, if you feel exhausted, I heard coke helps against that."
Giselle didn't want to hear any of Keegan's whining about bad sleep, really everyone on this show probably hadn't had the best sleep of their lives considering they could be murdered in their sleep and all. It had been a rhetorical question out of courtesy like 'How was your day' or 'How are you'. You were supposed to simply say 'I had a good day' and 'I'm doing fine' and shut up, instead of giving insights about the monstrous pains of falling asleep during class after spending all the night playing Champions.
She didn't want to hear about Keegan's pain. Giselle didn't want to pity him even though it was very easy to do so. After all, the poor guy had been shot, so he had the right to do so. Keegan definitely was in the worst condition of the six of them, but Giselle would've prefered it if Keegan simply had said something along the lines of 'I feel fine', 'I feel better' or 'I'm feeling fantastic today, my wounds disappeared overnight' and just shut up about his misery.
Giselle genuinely felt worried about Keegan's health. She couldn't help but to feel bad about him and the cough managed to make her pity him. She didn't want Keegan to die, but his poor condition makes her thoughts go into a grim direction with Keegan's possible death. She didn't want that.
Fisk arriving at the pool brought her mind back into reality and away from the scenarios in her head about losing Keegan.
"Nice outfit. The vest really suits you," she said to the man in the costume.
Fisk also was awake, happy as he always is. She noted that the Yacht would be a good place to sleep for the second night, got it. She turned back to Keegan.
"Well, if you feel exhausted, I heard coke helps against that."
I'm so glad to be back !
That was... an answer? Fisk played back the scene in his head, and yeah, Keegan just gave him a double meaning, twice. In the end, it wasn’t really worth getting bothered over, they were questions Fisk knew the answers to; conversation starters. Ask a dumb question get a dumb answer.
Giselle complimented his new duds, which was definitely better of a conversation starter than asking about someone’s lack of sleep. “Really? Thanks! You’d be surprised at what you can find lying around the ship, people leave behind all sorts of things.”
Giselle then followed by suggesting Keegan do coke, which Fisk couldn’t tell if it were a joke or not. If it got him up and moving, that would be a miracle considering the structurally superfluous hole in him. “I don’t mind sharing if he wants, but honestly I think the best thing for him is rest right now. We’re in no rush, and there’s no point over exerting himself over nothing right now.”
Giselle complimented his new duds, which was definitely better of a conversation starter than asking about someone’s lack of sleep. “Really? Thanks! You’d be surprised at what you can find lying around the ship, people leave behind all sorts of things.”
Giselle then followed by suggesting Keegan do coke, which Fisk couldn’t tell if it were a joke or not. If it got him up and moving, that would be a miracle considering the structurally superfluous hole in him. “I don’t mind sharing if he wants, but honestly I think the best thing for him is rest right now. We’re in no rush, and there’s no point over exerting himself over nothing right now.”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
(Rhonda Rollins continued from Un-goddamn-deniable)
Rhonda got a pretty good drop of information from Ivan as they walked across the flotilla. The biggest thing that she took away was names. Names of the people who attacked him, Giselle and her associates. That was some powerful knowledge, especially in light of past events. Now if they encountered any of them later, they wouldn't be able to play innocent like Giselle did. Now she knew that the proper response was either her shotgun, or... actually, she had forgotten to ask what Ivan had on hand. Either way, the shotgun would probably be more than enough to convince most people that messing with her was a bad idea.
She mentally talked herself up, trying to keep her spirits a a reasonably manageable level. They were going to be fine. She and Ivan were both strong, and she had a goddamn shotgun. If Giselle or her asshole friends showed up, then they were going to catch a beatdown and some buckshot. They had already proven that they were acolytes of the game, with Ivan's injuries and Xander's death on their hands. People who were so brutal and evil shouldn't be allowed to win, and if Rhonda had to get her hands dirty to make sure of that, then so be it.
She walked down the cruise ship, holding her shotgun and reflexively aiming it when she thought she heard a noise near them, usually followed by her trying to shake off her nerves and continue onward. The deck opened up before her, and she saw the pool start to appear from around the corner. The water in the pool looked placid, as though it were existing in its own little bubble outside of all the gory chaos. It seemed like a nice place to sit and relax. A little chilling by the poolside could be nothing but good for morale, after all.
Unfortunately, the outlook didn't remain sunny as Rhonda came closer to the corner, and she could hear voices. Her steps slowed until she caught a glimpse of the people neat the pool, and laser-focused on one of them. Standing right there, talking with two guys, was Giselle.
Rhonda quickly ducked back behind the wall and out of view with a muttered curse under her breath. "Motherfucker." She turned to Ivan. "She's here. Giselle."
Rhonda got a pretty good drop of information from Ivan as they walked across the flotilla. The biggest thing that she took away was names. Names of the people who attacked him, Giselle and her associates. That was some powerful knowledge, especially in light of past events. Now if they encountered any of them later, they wouldn't be able to play innocent like Giselle did. Now she knew that the proper response was either her shotgun, or... actually, she had forgotten to ask what Ivan had on hand. Either way, the shotgun would probably be more than enough to convince most people that messing with her was a bad idea.
She mentally talked herself up, trying to keep her spirits a a reasonably manageable level. They were going to be fine. She and Ivan were both strong, and she had a goddamn shotgun. If Giselle or her asshole friends showed up, then they were going to catch a beatdown and some buckshot. They had already proven that they were acolytes of the game, with Ivan's injuries and Xander's death on their hands. People who were so brutal and evil shouldn't be allowed to win, and if Rhonda had to get her hands dirty to make sure of that, then so be it.
She walked down the cruise ship, holding her shotgun and reflexively aiming it when she thought she heard a noise near them, usually followed by her trying to shake off her nerves and continue onward. The deck opened up before her, and she saw the pool start to appear from around the corner. The water in the pool looked placid, as though it were existing in its own little bubble outside of all the gory chaos. It seemed like a nice place to sit and relax. A little chilling by the poolside could be nothing but good for morale, after all.
Unfortunately, the outlook didn't remain sunny as Rhonda came closer to the corner, and she could hear voices. Her steps slowed until she caught a glimpse of the people neat the pool, and laser-focused on one of them. Standing right there, talking with two guys, was Giselle.
Rhonda quickly ducked back behind the wall and out of view with a muttered curse under her breath. "Motherfucker." She turned to Ivan. "She's here. Giselle."
-
The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 893
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
((From Un-goddamn-deniable))
"Good," came the reply, as Ivan, crouched beside her, felt his heart pound a little harder in anticipation.
"I'm gonna grab her. You make sure they don't follow me, come meet us after."
He dragged a fingernail over his wound, the F reopening, beginning to bleed again. He'd need it later, wanted it looking fresher, as close to just done as he could. Then he dropped low in a four-point stance, watching Giselle with slightly slitted eyes.
She stepped to the right, a perfect straight shot to the stairway, below and out of sight.
"Good luck," he whispered, then took off.
Roadie-running, center of gravity low, praying Rhonda was following behind to hold off Keegan and Fisk, Ivan wrapped his arms around Giselle's legs, lifted her off the ground, and let his momentum carry them towards the stairwell leading to the lower decks in a burst of movement and sound. Ivan let Giselle break their fall against the wall, his full weight on hers, cracked ribs singing.
He was a flash of hate, and he was gone as soon as he'd arrived.
((To Giselle's Sea World Tour))
"Good," came the reply, as Ivan, crouched beside her, felt his heart pound a little harder in anticipation.
"I'm gonna grab her. You make sure they don't follow me, come meet us after."
He dragged a fingernail over his wound, the F reopening, beginning to bleed again. He'd need it later, wanted it looking fresher, as close to just done as he could. Then he dropped low in a four-point stance, watching Giselle with slightly slitted eyes.
She stepped to the right, a perfect straight shot to the stairway, below and out of sight.
"Good luck," he whispered, then took off.
Roadie-running, center of gravity low, praying Rhonda was following behind to hold off Keegan and Fisk, Ivan wrapped his arms around Giselle's legs, lifted her off the ground, and let his momentum carry them towards the stairwell leading to the lower decks in a burst of movement and sound. Ivan let Giselle break their fall against the wall, his full weight on hers, cracked ribs singing.
He was a flash of hate, and he was gone as soon as he'd arrived.
((To Giselle's Sea World Tour))
-
Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
She could hear footsteps approaching. James also had woken up. Giselle looked and-
wait that wasn't James. Was that...Ivan?
Before she could react to any of that she couldn't feel the ground as the madman picked her up. She was too confused to know what to say so she just screamed and well, tried to free herself from Ivan. She managed to be free herself for a second, but actually not really because she'd been thrown against a wall and Ivan crashed on her, too.
Her back and the whole torso, really, pained and she wondered where Ivan got all that strength. The stupid gym he was attending couldn't be it.
((FR05 Giselle Fillmore continued in Giselle's Sea World Tour))
wait that wasn't James. Was that...Ivan?
Before she could react to any of that she couldn't feel the ground as the madman picked her up. She was too confused to know what to say so she just screamed and well, tried to free herself from Ivan. She managed to be free herself for a second, but actually not really because she'd been thrown against a wall and Ivan crashed on her, too.
Her back and the whole torso, really, pained and she wondered where Ivan got all that strength. The stupid gym he was attending couldn't be it.
((FR05 Giselle Fillmore continued in Giselle's Sea World Tour))
I'm so glad to be back !
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"I think I'm good on the coke," Keegan said, "always been more of a Pespi—"
Then all hell broke loose. There was a flash of movement, a yelp, and Giselle was gone, hauled bodily down the stairs. Keegan wished it was a total mystery what had happened, who had done it, but he'd seen plenty. He knew. Goddammit.
In Champions, sometimes a member of the team overcommitted, or got caught out, or just dropped the ball. When that occurred, the correct play was sometimes to leave them and sometimes to dive in to pull them out of the fire, but Keegan mostly laughed his head off at the misfortune and said something cagey yet provocative in chat—assuming he wasn't the one in trouble himself, which he honestly usually was. In Champions, it didn't matter. You were down a teammate for a bit, or you had to watch a grey screen for a while, or you lost the game, or whatever, but worst case you tilted and lost some LP and stayed up too late and that was it.
But here and now, Keegan was the one who had fucked up, but he wasn't the one paying the price. And that, of course, wasn't right. If this was going to happen now, if this was to be the reckoning, he had no doubt the six of them could come out on top when pitted against one foe—they had once before. But what he could not guarantee was that it would happen swiftly or cleanly, without anyone getting hurt, and especially from this starting point. Half the squad wasn't here yet. Fisk was off guard. And Keegan, of course, was injured. His role was to land in hot water, not to save others from the repercussions of his own failings.
Still, he jumped up, the sudden motion sending a surge of agony through his side. He scooped the narwhal horn up, which hurt even worse, and broke into a walk that would've been pretty weak on a normal day but felt like breakneck speed after yesterday's events. He could feel sweat prickling on his back already, but forced himself to keep moving.
"Come on, man," he called out over his shoulder to Fisk, probably pointlessly. Keegan couldn't imagine he was the first to act, but also had eyes only for the staircase down which Giselle had vanished.
Then all hell broke loose. There was a flash of movement, a yelp, and Giselle was gone, hauled bodily down the stairs. Keegan wished it was a total mystery what had happened, who had done it, but he'd seen plenty. He knew. Goddammit.
In Champions, sometimes a member of the team overcommitted, or got caught out, or just dropped the ball. When that occurred, the correct play was sometimes to leave them and sometimes to dive in to pull them out of the fire, but Keegan mostly laughed his head off at the misfortune and said something cagey yet provocative in chat—assuming he wasn't the one in trouble himself, which he honestly usually was. In Champions, it didn't matter. You were down a teammate for a bit, or you had to watch a grey screen for a while, or you lost the game, or whatever, but worst case you tilted and lost some LP and stayed up too late and that was it.
But here and now, Keegan was the one who had fucked up, but he wasn't the one paying the price. And that, of course, wasn't right. If this was going to happen now, if this was to be the reckoning, he had no doubt the six of them could come out on top when pitted against one foe—they had once before. But what he could not guarantee was that it would happen swiftly or cleanly, without anyone getting hurt, and especially from this starting point. Half the squad wasn't here yet. Fisk was off guard. And Keegan, of course, was injured. His role was to land in hot water, not to save others from the repercussions of his own failings.
Still, he jumped up, the sudden motion sending a surge of agony through his side. He scooped the narwhal horn up, which hurt even worse, and broke into a walk that would've been pretty weak on a normal day but felt like breakneck speed after yesterday's events. He could feel sweat prickling on his back already, but forced himself to keep moving.
"Come on, man," he called out over his shoulder to Fisk, probably pointlessly. Keegan couldn't imagine he was the first to act, but also had eyes only for the staircase down which Giselle had vanished.
Fisk crossed his legs, about to close his eyes and do some sunbathing before waiting for the others. “Eh, Pepsi just tastes like flat co-“
Movement.
Giselle?
“Gise-oh shit...”
Contact.
“OH SHIT!”
Two clanks, feet hit the ground. Felt dizzy, nearly blind with purple stars and pinpricks filling his vision, could just barely see anything except directly in front of him. A lot more clanks, Fisk passed Keegan. He was in no condition to fight Ivan. Didn’t have the time to say no offense. Fisk turned around, he could see again, his face felt hot, his body cold like tv static.
“K-Keegan, go get the others! NOW!”
Fisk turned back to the stairwell, looking down it, hearing the cries for help, footfalls getting farther away.
“Giselle! GISELLE! We’re coming okay! We’re gonna rescue you!”
He almost didn’t see the second person in the corner of his eye who wasn’t Keegan.
Movement.
Giselle?
“Gise-oh shit...”
Contact.
“OH SHIT!”
Two clanks, feet hit the ground. Felt dizzy, nearly blind with purple stars and pinpricks filling his vision, could just barely see anything except directly in front of him. A lot more clanks, Fisk passed Keegan. He was in no condition to fight Ivan. Didn’t have the time to say no offense. Fisk turned around, he could see again, his face felt hot, his body cold like tv static.
“K-Keegan, go get the others! NOW!”
Fisk turned back to the stairwell, looking down it, hearing the cries for help, footfalls getting farther away.
“Giselle! GISELLE! We’re coming okay! We’re gonna rescue you!”
He almost didn’t see the second person in the corner of his eye who wasn’t Keegan.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
"Ivan wa-"
No use. Ivan was off like a rocket before Rhonda could even start to try to discuss strategy. Within seconds he had already barreled into Giselle and sent both of them flying down the stairs, ending with a crash that made Rhonda wince. There was no way that at least one of them didn't get hurt from that. She stood still, looking at the stairwell that they had disappeared down in disbelief. Ivan's recklessness was more than she had bargained for.
But sadly, that wasn't the end of it. Giselle had friends, and they were getting heated now. Honestly, Rhonda couldn't blame them that much. They had an ally that had just gotten rushed and launched down the stairs. Not exactly a happy situation. But she had to steel herself. Giselle was one of the bad guys. These guys were the bad guys. She had to hold them up. With a couple moments of hesitation, she raised her shotgun and leveled it at them.
"Hey." She called to get their attention. "Don't move." She had her barrel pointed at them, staring them down. All she needed to do was buy a little time for Ivan and get away. That's all.
No use. Ivan was off like a rocket before Rhonda could even start to try to discuss strategy. Within seconds he had already barreled into Giselle and sent both of them flying down the stairs, ending with a crash that made Rhonda wince. There was no way that at least one of them didn't get hurt from that. She stood still, looking at the stairwell that they had disappeared down in disbelief. Ivan's recklessness was more than she had bargained for.
But sadly, that wasn't the end of it. Giselle had friends, and they were getting heated now. Honestly, Rhonda couldn't blame them that much. They had an ally that had just gotten rushed and launched down the stairs. Not exactly a happy situation. But she had to steel herself. Giselle was one of the bad guys. These guys were the bad guys. She had to hold them up. With a couple moments of hesitation, she raised her shotgun and leveled it at them.
"Hey." She called to get their attention. "Don't move." She had her barrel pointed at them, staring them down. All she needed to do was buy a little time for Ivan and get away. That's all.
The gun was aimed at Rhonda's head, but his finger wasn't on the trigger yet.
He wanted to listen.
He needed to know.
His body stayed hidden behind the corner.
He wanted to listen.
He needed to know.
His body stayed hidden behind the corner.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Keegan froze. Vacillated.
He wanted to race off after the pair that he vanished below deck. He wanted to rectify his mistake, to pull the little glass shiv he still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around from his pocket and drive it into Ivan's throat, never mind that he probably couldn't pose a physical impediment to Ivan on his best day, and on Ivan's worst. He wanted to be able to move quickly, to be smooth and tough, the sort of guy who could sniff coke mid-speech and not bat an eye at it.
He wanted to listen to his friends, to follow their plans. He wanted to get help. He wanted to run away. He wanted to be able to run.
He really wanted to not get shot again.
Keegan was leaning on the horn, trying to look casual and not like it was holding him up. His gaze flicked between Fisk and the new girl, now pointing a hefty weapon their way.
There was enough space between Keegan and Fisk that she wouldn't just be able to one-two punch them, unless she was some kind of crack shot. If she wasn't bluffing, and if she shot Fisk, Keegan would have a few moments to try to hustle to safety. He probably wouldn't make it, though. On the other hand, if she let her fall upon to Keegan first, Fisk would have an instant's opening. He could maybe do something with it, maybe stop her, then chase after Giselle.
Keegan had been shot. He didn't want that to happen again. But he knew the hand he was dealt, knew how to be a distraction, how to throw the support in the line of fire to protect the carry. So he nodded and ignored the girl's demand, shuffling as quick as he could towards the corridors of the ship opposite where Giselle had vanished but closer to where the other three waited, narwhal horn clonking loudly on the ground with each step.
He wanted to race off after the pair that he vanished below deck. He wanted to rectify his mistake, to pull the little glass shiv he still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around from his pocket and drive it into Ivan's throat, never mind that he probably couldn't pose a physical impediment to Ivan on his best day, and on Ivan's worst. He wanted to be able to move quickly, to be smooth and tough, the sort of guy who could sniff coke mid-speech and not bat an eye at it.
He wanted to listen to his friends, to follow their plans. He wanted to get help. He wanted to run away. He wanted to be able to run.
He really wanted to not get shot again.
Keegan was leaning on the horn, trying to look casual and not like it was holding him up. His gaze flicked between Fisk and the new girl, now pointing a hefty weapon their way.
There was enough space between Keegan and Fisk that she wouldn't just be able to one-two punch them, unless she was some kind of crack shot. If she wasn't bluffing, and if she shot Fisk, Keegan would have a few moments to try to hustle to safety. He probably wouldn't make it, though. On the other hand, if she let her fall upon to Keegan first, Fisk would have an instant's opening. He could maybe do something with it, maybe stop her, then chase after Giselle.
Keegan had been shot. He didn't want that to happen again. But he knew the hand he was dealt, knew how to be a distraction, how to throw the support in the line of fire to protect the carry. So he nodded and ignored the girl's demand, shuffling as quick as he could towards the corridors of the ship opposite where Giselle had vanished but closer to where the other three waited, narwhal horn clonking loudly on the ground with each step.