INT. SCHOOL CLASROOM- MORNING
The camera turns on to reveal a familiar bearded face, though this time the smile is virtually non-existent. His hair is let down and his cheeks are reddened as though he was recently in tears, his eyes still watery as he sniffles and wipes his nose.
"Uh... H-hello, I, um..." he says, stumbling over his words. "I... God, I don't even know where to begin" he says, burying his face into the palm of his hands.
He remains silent for a good twenty seconds or so, before turning back up to the camera with a deep intake of breath. "I... W-we got woken up by an announcement. The... The people who organised all this - This guy, Dr Sycamore was his name I think - we all got messages on our PDAs... I-I kinda meant to record it, but... I-I forgot..."
Darren chuckled humourlessly. "God, first an unboxing video, then a tutorial on how to prepare an MRE, now a reaction video... Christ almighty" he laughed, staring down at the floor as he exhaled, before looking back up at the camera.
"There's already been several deaths" he stated, blankly. "Thaddaus was the first... Shot by..." he continued, struggling to say the name. "Art... I... I don't if if that was after we saw him yesterday, or..."
He gulped, before continuing. "Next was Daniella, sh-shot by her partner, Elizabeth... I... I still can't believe that..."
Darren pauses, shaking himself from his train of thought. "Then there was..." he gulps. "H-Harper... I... Fuck"
He tears up again, wiping his eyes. "Then one of those... Things got Reinette. And another got Austin. That's all so far..."
Darren coughs. "So far... Fucking hell..." he says, wiping his eyes clean again. "I still can't believe that... Like, I knew that the danger was real, but I still thought... Like, I didn't think anyone would actually..."
He pauses, unable to find the words he was seeking, just staring out past the camera. Reminded once more that he was currently talking to an invisible audience who might not ever heed his words. He sighs, and picks the camera up.
"I... I should go check in on Cat and Jarret..." he says, before heading off with the camera hanging limply by his side as he sought his companions out.
YOUTUBER REACTS TO HIS FRIENDS DYING
Day 2 - Morning
Moderator: SOTF U Staff
YOUTUBER REACTS TO HIS FRIENDS DYING
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
*urghghaghghghahghghh*
((Catarina Markovitz continued from Meal Ready to Eat))
Catarina had been running on so much adrenaline yesterday that it wasn't until she was woken up by her own growling stomach that she realized she'd forgotten to eat. With a ready made MRE in front of her, and even the mention of a pizza slice, she still hadn't put it together for herself until the vibrations occured that morning.
She'd bolted upwards from her sleeping bag, carrying the bloat with her. It was only a few minutes later that the paint of sleeping on solid ground caught up with her, and she could do nothing but ache.
Everything fucking hurt! Her gut was tight, her bones were sore, and she was still cold, somehow. Her layers hadn't shed her skin, and she was still fucking cold. She scrunched up part of the sleeping bag still under her and tried to lay back down - maybe she'd hit a wrong angle somewhere in her sleep, something she'd done even when she was sleeping in sheets with a thread count higher than most people's life prospects - but nope, still sucked.
She let out a slow moan, but didn't have time to address the bone pain until she fixed the stomach pain.
As the other two did their thing, Catarina prepared an "MRE". She still wasn't sure what that stood for, and she wasn't interested in finding out yet. She just wanted food. Beclawed fingers ripped and sealed and shook. A woman lay back down on her sleeping bag, not for rest, but for fixing her bones, for staring at the ceiling.
Eventually, the 12 minutes was up - Darren had gone to the other room, having already listened to his PDA. Right, that was something she needed to do as well, wasn't it? Well, she was in no rush. She had to have her breakfast first.
A tiny fork for a tiny meal was placed within the same beclawed fingers, and Catarina took a scoop of her off-white meal, examined it carefully, before placing it in her mouth.
She almost spat the whole thing up right then and there. A few weeks ago she'd made Bœuf Bourgignon for her family with enough spices to take down the Indian government. On the boat, she'd had cafeteria food, which while bad, at least had multiple textures and flavours and some cooking involved. The thing she'd put in her mouth was basically salt and preservatives. Her tongue shriveled in her mouth as the disgusting mass moved around, invading every orifice of her mouth with...was it even flavour at this point? It was basically a reaction now. She might as well have wandered into the unfrozen ocean and stuck her head in like a flamingo.
As her face twitched, she sealed her lips, and Catarina thought back to what a lot of the housewives she knew had to do to get through their lives - she closed her eyes, and swallowed. Eventually the experience disappeared down her throat, again much like those housewives, and Catarina was back to a reality in which she wasn't eating an MRE.
Except that reality didn't exist, because she began loudly coughing and hacking her lungs from her chest, trying to get the lingering taste of what had surpassed salt and was basically sand, out of her mouth.
((Catarina Markovitz continued from Meal Ready to Eat))
Catarina had been running on so much adrenaline yesterday that it wasn't until she was woken up by her own growling stomach that she realized she'd forgotten to eat. With a ready made MRE in front of her, and even the mention of a pizza slice, she still hadn't put it together for herself until the vibrations occured that morning.
She'd bolted upwards from her sleeping bag, carrying the bloat with her. It was only a few minutes later that the paint of sleeping on solid ground caught up with her, and she could do nothing but ache.
Everything fucking hurt! Her gut was tight, her bones were sore, and she was still cold, somehow. Her layers hadn't shed her skin, and she was still fucking cold. She scrunched up part of the sleeping bag still under her and tried to lay back down - maybe she'd hit a wrong angle somewhere in her sleep, something she'd done even when she was sleeping in sheets with a thread count higher than most people's life prospects - but nope, still sucked.
She let out a slow moan, but didn't have time to address the bone pain until she fixed the stomach pain.
As the other two did their thing, Catarina prepared an "MRE". She still wasn't sure what that stood for, and she wasn't interested in finding out yet. She just wanted food. Beclawed fingers ripped and sealed and shook. A woman lay back down on her sleeping bag, not for rest, but for fixing her bones, for staring at the ceiling.
Eventually, the 12 minutes was up - Darren had gone to the other room, having already listened to his PDA. Right, that was something she needed to do as well, wasn't it? Well, she was in no rush. She had to have her breakfast first.
A tiny fork for a tiny meal was placed within the same beclawed fingers, and Catarina took a scoop of her off-white meal, examined it carefully, before placing it in her mouth.
She almost spat the whole thing up right then and there. A few weeks ago she'd made Bœuf Bourgignon for her family with enough spices to take down the Indian government. On the boat, she'd had cafeteria food, which while bad, at least had multiple textures and flavours and some cooking involved. The thing she'd put in her mouth was basically salt and preservatives. Her tongue shriveled in her mouth as the disgusting mass moved around, invading every orifice of her mouth with...was it even flavour at this point? It was basically a reaction now. She might as well have wandered into the unfrozen ocean and stuck her head in like a flamingo.
As her face twitched, she sealed her lips, and Catarina thought back to what a lot of the housewives she knew had to do to get through their lives - she closed her eyes, and swallowed. Eventually the experience disappeared down her throat, again much like those housewives, and Catarina was back to a reality in which she wasn't eating an MRE.
Except that reality didn't exist, because she began loudly coughing and hacking her lungs from her chest, trying to get the lingering taste of what had surpassed salt and was basically sand, out of her mouth.
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 250
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: Hanging Onto A Buoy For Dear Life
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
- Contact:
Jarrett didn't have an appetite. Not this morning, after waking up to the voice on Darren's arm, and reading the words on their own. The copy and the speech came from two different sources, but, speaking only of the information contained, their contents were the same.
If they had the choice, between one and the other, and didn't have to go through both, again, then they'd opt for the text. They could do without Professor Tree's running monologue, as if he was opening a late night TV show, as if the point of the experiment was for him to practice his routine. Apart from that, his voice had a hypnotic quality; by the end of his speech, Jarrett had forgotten anything he had said. Which was why he had opened the unrecorded version on their own PDA. It came as a surprise that it wasn't just a straight transcription—a welcome one, to be sure, but a surprise the same. This was what they needed; just the facts, no commentary, nothing to lead or mislead them to any conclusions not entirely their own.
Though it must be said; the relative lack of adornment did not make Dr. Erin Finch's commentary any less psychopathic. I mean, come on; 'happy hunting'? Really?
[Jarrett Bergman continued from Meal Ready to Eat.]
And now that they could see the facts and process them without wondering if they had heard this or that name or place correctly, they could form some takeaways. That they had crossed paths with a killer was not altogether surprising—that there were two, was. Jarrett was infinitely glad that they had come alone on this trip, that neither of their partners had come along. They thanked whatever higher power they could muster belief in for that, and then put the horrific implications of whatever was going on with Elizabeth far, far out of their mind.
Harper's log was curious. Reinette's was inconclusive and that was horrifying. Names; they had names now, for the creatures. The Bandersnatch was Vermiculus, likely what they had seen from the window, and the Chimera was what they had seen on the video before. That would be the Jabberwocky. What were the Revenants, then? At the docks, where Jarrett found Darren—was that them, then, in the container raised above the ground? Jaberwocky was also tracing their steps—all the way to the Armory. And the monster they had been closest to was now the farthest away.
Darren left the room, talking to himself on the recorder. Catarina struggled with breakfast. Jarrett lay still in their sleeping bag, rereading the end of the message on their wrist.
Happy hunting.
They started slowly to crawl from their cocoon, wiping the crust from their eyes and speaking in a low morning tone.
"Are you choking," Jarrett half-asked, "or is it that gross."
They hunted—unhappily, blurrily—for their glasses on the floor.
If they had the choice, between one and the other, and didn't have to go through both, again, then they'd opt for the text. They could do without Professor Tree's running monologue, as if he was opening a late night TV show, as if the point of the experiment was for him to practice his routine. Apart from that, his voice had a hypnotic quality; by the end of his speech, Jarrett had forgotten anything he had said. Which was why he had opened the unrecorded version on their own PDA. It came as a surprise that it wasn't just a straight transcription—a welcome one, to be sure, but a surprise the same. This was what they needed; just the facts, no commentary, nothing to lead or mislead them to any conclusions not entirely their own.
Though it must be said; the relative lack of adornment did not make Dr. Erin Finch's commentary any less psychopathic. I mean, come on; 'happy hunting'? Really?
[Jarrett Bergman continued from Meal Ready to Eat.]
And now that they could see the facts and process them without wondering if they had heard this or that name or place correctly, they could form some takeaways. That they had crossed paths with a killer was not altogether surprising—that there were two, was. Jarrett was infinitely glad that they had come alone on this trip, that neither of their partners had come along. They thanked whatever higher power they could muster belief in for that, and then put the horrific implications of whatever was going on with Elizabeth far, far out of their mind.
Harper's log was curious. Reinette's was inconclusive and that was horrifying. Names; they had names now, for the creatures. The Bandersnatch was Vermiculus, likely what they had seen from the window, and the Chimera was what they had seen on the video before. That would be the Jabberwocky. What were the Revenants, then? At the docks, where Jarrett found Darren—was that them, then, in the container raised above the ground? Jaberwocky was also tracing their steps—all the way to the Armory. And the monster they had been closest to was now the farthest away.
Darren left the room, talking to himself on the recorder. Catarina struggled with breakfast. Jarrett lay still in their sleeping bag, rereading the end of the message on their wrist.
Happy hunting.
They started slowly to crawl from their cocoon, wiping the crust from their eyes and speaking in a low morning tone.
"Are you choking," Jarrett half-asked, "or is it that gross."
They hunted—unhappily, blurrily—for their glasses on the floor.
- 
- "Hey, I'm..." Darren began, only to get interrupted by Cat coughing, arriving just in time to catch it on camera. "...back."
He tilts the camera to catch Jarret's question, before heading towards the table to return to his seat, a half eaten cereal bar left on a plate scavenged from the school kitchen. He casually places the camera at the end of the table, roughly catching the three of them in frame as he grabbed that bar and took another bite.
"First time trying an MRE?" he asks, forcing a chuckle. "You get used to them after a while. Especially when you drown them in tobasco sauce..."
He turns back to Jarret, noticing that his friend was looking for something. Once it dawned on him what was missing from Jarret's face, he quickly glanced around before spying something on the table just out of frame. "Oh, uh, here you go..." he says, reaching out to gently grab the glasses before passing them over.
He tilts the camera to catch Jarret's question, before heading towards the table to return to his seat, a half eaten cereal bar left on a plate scavenged from the school kitchen. He casually places the camera at the end of the table, roughly catching the three of them in frame as he grabbed that bar and took another bite.
"First time trying an MRE?" he asks, forcing a chuckle. "You get used to them after a while. Especially when you drown them in tobasco sauce..."
He turns back to Jarret, noticing that his friend was looking for something. Once it dawned on him what was missing from Jarret's face, he quickly glanced around before spying something on the table just out of frame. "Oh, uh, here you go..." he says, reaching out to gently grab the glasses before passing them over.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
She began to recover from her disgust as the two others began to comment on her condition. She caught her breath quickly.
"Why would I have ever eaten this? Why would I get used to this? This is disgusting!"
Catarina had begun waving her arms around, during which the fork had slipped from her hands and bounced under a nearby desk.
"I have people buy my grocieries for me! I have never had to touch something like this ever! Why would you ever think-"
She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and held up her hands. It wasn't proper for her to be acting like this in front of them, if only because that was how she almost got robbed yesterday. Catarina did occasionally learn from the mistakes she made, as few and rare as they were. She took a few quick, silent breaths, before opening her eyes again and placing down her hands to an even level, while still somewhat speaking with them.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. It's fine. I apologize."
Considering what she just experienced, that comment about tobasco sauce probably had some merit to it. This...thing, was basically salt, and tobasco sauce was basically vinegar, so it could probably have given some balance to the culinary experience.
"...do you have any tobasco sauce, by any chance?", Catarina asked, as she reached under the nearest desk for her missing fork.
"Why would I have ever eaten this? Why would I get used to this? This is disgusting!"
Catarina had begun waving her arms around, during which the fork had slipped from her hands and bounced under a nearby desk.
"I have people buy my grocieries for me! I have never had to touch something like this ever! Why would you ever think-"
She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and held up her hands. It wasn't proper for her to be acting like this in front of them, if only because that was how she almost got robbed yesterday. Catarina did occasionally learn from the mistakes she made, as few and rare as they were. She took a few quick, silent breaths, before opening her eyes again and placing down her hands to an even level, while still somewhat speaking with them.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. It's fine. I apologize."
Considering what she just experienced, that comment about tobasco sauce probably had some merit to it. This...thing, was basically salt, and tobasco sauce was basically vinegar, so it could probably have given some balance to the culinary experience.
"...do you have any tobasco sauce, by any chance?", Catarina asked, as she reached under the nearest desk for her missing fork.
-
Dr Adjective
- Posts: 139
- Joined: Fri Oct 28, 2022 9:22 pm
- Location: i am living in your walls
[Esther Ježek got her first sleep in years, before this.]
She, of course, still felt tired, sore, miserable. Sleeping sat up had left her knees aching and her back complaining, and she hadn't even gotten that much sleep in the first place. Must've been long after midnight when she eventually drifted off, and the obnoxious wake-up call had come at 0800 on the dot. Not her worst night by a long shot, but far from restful.
Given that she'd been warned away the Armoury and the Docks, had briefly considered going the long way around one or the other to set up in either the Submarine Pen or the Airfield beyond, but ultimately thought better of it. She also considered the House of Culture, but after satisfying her morbid curiosity about the Lenin statue's missing eye - for a given definition of "satisfy", she confirmed that the eye was conspicuously missing, but was no closer to knowing why - she'd elected on a whim to about face and head east towards the school instead. Something about the House's imposing edifice made her feel uneasy, while the cheerful colours of the School seemed comparatively much more welcoming.
So that was how she'd come to be outside the charming bricks of the Серенская школа. She fished her submachine gun out of her duffle bag on the way into the lobby, treading lightly through to the corridors. The girl soon found cause to stop as the sounds of a familiar voice emerged from one of the classrooms. Esther immediately halted, letting go of her suitcase and gripping the gun in both hands. She knew that voice. Its owner was probably pissed at her. When they'd first met, Esther had not-so-politely told her to shut up, then run away like a detestable coward at the first sign of conflict.
Okay. So. Plan. She'd sneak past, head up that staircase further down the corridor, set up upstairs and hide there. If MILF and whoever she was speaking to stuck around downstairs, well... well that made them a valuable distraction to anyone or anything else coming in. Maybe she'd even help, emerge by surprise and look heroic, make herself look good in front of the others and have some new friends. Yeah. Good plan. In the mean time though, Parasite mode, hiding upstairs.
One foot forwards. Toes first. Slow and smooth, draw out the impact. That was physics, she was pretty sure that's how it worked. Same force, divided by more time, less noise. Something like that. With a muted grunt she hoisted her suitcase up in one hand, no need to let the sound of wheels give her away. Yeah. This was going to work.
It was going to work right up until she sneezed.
She, of course, still felt tired, sore, miserable. Sleeping sat up had left her knees aching and her back complaining, and she hadn't even gotten that much sleep in the first place. Must've been long after midnight when she eventually drifted off, and the obnoxious wake-up call had come at 0800 on the dot. Not her worst night by a long shot, but far from restful.
Given that she'd been warned away the Armoury and the Docks, had briefly considered going the long way around one or the other to set up in either the Submarine Pen or the Airfield beyond, but ultimately thought better of it. She also considered the House of Culture, but after satisfying her morbid curiosity about the Lenin statue's missing eye - for a given definition of "satisfy", she confirmed that the eye was conspicuously missing, but was no closer to knowing why - she'd elected on a whim to about face and head east towards the school instead. Something about the House's imposing edifice made her feel uneasy, while the cheerful colours of the School seemed comparatively much more welcoming.
So that was how she'd come to be outside the charming bricks of the Серенская школа. She fished her submachine gun out of her duffle bag on the way into the lobby, treading lightly through to the corridors. The girl soon found cause to stop as the sounds of a familiar voice emerged from one of the classrooms. Esther immediately halted, letting go of her suitcase and gripping the gun in both hands. She knew that voice. Its owner was probably pissed at her. When they'd first met, Esther had not-so-politely told her to shut up, then run away like a detestable coward at the first sign of conflict.
Okay. So. Plan. She'd sneak past, head up that staircase further down the corridor, set up upstairs and hide there. If MILF and whoever she was speaking to stuck around downstairs, well... well that made them a valuable distraction to anyone or anything else coming in. Maybe she'd even help, emerge by surprise and look heroic, make herself look good in front of the others and have some new friends. Yeah. Good plan. In the mean time though, Parasite mode, hiding upstairs.
One foot forwards. Toes first. Slow and smooth, draw out the impact. That was physics, she was pretty sure that's how it worked. Same force, divided by more time, less noise. Something like that. With a muted grunt she hoisted her suitcase up in one hand, no need to let the sound of wheels give her away. Yeah. This was going to work.
It was going to work right up until she sneezed.
SOTF: U
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One:
-> Step Two: 
-> Step Three: 
-> Step Four: 
-> Step Five: 
-> Step Six: 
-> †
One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One:
-> Step Two: 
-> Step Three: 
-> Step Four: 
-> Step Five: 
-> Step Six: 
-> †One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 250
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: Hanging Onto A Buoy For Dear Life
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
- Contact:
Grateful, Jarrett grabbed their glasses and put them on. Now they could hear better—could hear Catarina go on and on about how rich she was, how this was so beneath her, having to eat this slop. She dropped her fork on the ground. They waited silently while her temper tantrum spun itself out and she was left whimpering and begging for the hot sauce, anything to make cold reality taste better, and watched as she picked her fork up—off of the goddamn dirty floor—and started to eat with it again. Already they were beginning to regret letting her stay with them, but on the bright-side, that was one more slow runner between them and the Jabberwocky, if it came down to that.
"I need to smoke," Jarrett said. They sat up, climbed all of the way out of the sleeping bag, and kicked it away. Their bag was by a nearby desk; Jarrett sat in the adjoined chair and started to rummage through their bag for their wake-and-bake when
"Achoo!"
They lifted their head and looked toward the door. Then they put their fingers in their ears to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep with earbuds in.
"Did one of you just sneeze?" Jarrett asked. Their sword was on another desk, out of reach if they had to lunge; and so, they were stuck, sitting shocked and still.
"I need to smoke," Jarrett said. They sat up, climbed all of the way out of the sleeping bag, and kicked it away. Their bag was by a nearby desk; Jarrett sat in the adjoined chair and started to rummage through their bag for their wake-and-bake when
"Achoo!"
They lifted their head and looked toward the door. Then they put their fingers in their ears to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep with earbuds in.
"Did one of you just sneeze?" Jarrett asked. Their sword was on another desk, out of reach if they had to lunge; and so, they were stuck, sitting shocked and still.
"Nono, that's fine! I can imagine it's a bit of a shock to the system if you've never tried canned food before..." Darren replies, trying to laugh it off. He reaches out for the accessory packet that came with Catarina's MRE, opening it up and sorting through the contents.
"I've had these a buncha times during my backpacking trips, always figured a mediocre warm meal beats a cold one any day" he continues, eventually picking up the tiny bottle of tabasco sauce that came with the MRE and handing it back to Cat. "Way I see it, we could have it worse... They might have just left us to subsist on bread and ration bars instead."
He finishes off the breakfast bar, the last remnant of the previous night's dinner, before wiping his hands and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his hairband.
"OH! One more tip..." he says, stopping mid sentence as he overheard that sneeze. He slowly turns his head to Jarret, shaking it as he quickly finishes tying his hair back into it's usual manbun, before then reaching out for his camera and slowly making his way towards the classroom door.
"...hello?" he asks, figuring that if there was somebody out there, they likely already knew they were inside.
"I've had these a buncha times during my backpacking trips, always figured a mediocre warm meal beats a cold one any day" he continues, eventually picking up the tiny bottle of tabasco sauce that came with the MRE and handing it back to Cat. "Way I see it, we could have it worse... They might have just left us to subsist on bread and ration bars instead."
He finishes off the breakfast bar, the last remnant of the previous night's dinner, before wiping his hands and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his hairband.
"OH! One more tip..." he says, stopping mid sentence as he overheard that sneeze. He slowly turns his head to Jarret, shaking it as he quickly finishes tying his hair back into it's usual manbun, before then reaching out for his camera and slowly making his way towards the classroom door.
"...hello?" he asks, figuring that if there was somebody out there, they likely already knew they were inside.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
-
Dr Adjective
- Posts: 139
- Joined: Fri Oct 28, 2022 9:22 pm
- Location: i am living in your walls
Esther froze. Figuratively, as opposed to the literal cold clinging to her bones.
Then someone spoke from the other side of the door. Damn. Hitchcock wasn’t wrong, closed doors were pretty scary in the right circumstances. A million versions of that door opening and Esther getting shot to ribbons ran through her mind. Were she in their shoes, she’d be aiming her gun at the door, at least.
Finally, she took a step back, pointed the PPSh at the door.
“Don’t come out!”
Then someone spoke from the other side of the door. Damn. Hitchcock wasn’t wrong, closed doors were pretty scary in the right circumstances. A million versions of that door opening and Esther getting shot to ribbons ran through her mind. Were she in their shoes, she’d be aiming her gun at the door, at least.
Finally, she took a step back, pointed the PPSh at the door.
“Don’t come out!”
SOTF: U
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One: -> Step Two: -> Step Three: -> Step Four: -> Step Five: -> Step Six: -> †
One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One:
-> Step Two: -> Step Three: -> Step Four: -> Step Five: -> Step Six: -> †One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 250
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: Hanging Onto A Buoy For Dear Life
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
- Contact:
Instinctively, Jarrett threw their hands up at the announcement of the muffled mystery voice on the other side of the door.
"Don't have to tell me twice!" they said.
At their old elementary school, the classrooms would sometimes open up into one another via doors behind the teacher's desk. You'd be sitting in class doing math drills, then all of a sudden Ms. Kelly would be standing behind Mr. Olsen asking in hushed tones about something that happened in the teacher's lounge the other day. Apparently this was an innovation that had not yet made it to Soviet shores afore the fall of the wall; the only way in or out of the classroom was through that door, or out the window.
Jarrett, panicked, looked to Catarina and Darren for answers. Even though Jarrett was, roughly speaking, the best armed in the room, it didn't really matter at a time like this.
"Don't have to tell me twice!" they said.
At their old elementary school, the classrooms would sometimes open up into one another via doors behind the teacher's desk. You'd be sitting in class doing math drills, then all of a sudden Ms. Kelly would be standing behind Mr. Olsen asking in hushed tones about something that happened in the teacher's lounge the other day. Apparently this was an innovation that had not yet made it to Soviet shores afore the fall of the wall; the only way in or out of the classroom was through that door, or out the window.
Jarrett, panicked, looked to Catarina and Darren for answers. Even though Jarrett was, roughly speaking, the best armed in the room, it didn't really matter at a time like this.
She'd never been given one of these, and yet he had. The thought tumbled around in her mind, much as she tumbled around the bottle of tobasco sauce in her hand, about how just unfair it could have been had she not had someone's generosity to take advantage of, when she heard a familiar voice.
Oh. That puta. She would know that voice anywhere.
The one who mocked her yesterday, who treated her like dog doodoo. Who ran off as she was about to be mugged, and left her on her own. Not that she was obligated to help, but the opposite of helping stung just as much. If she could rewind her own timeline, she'd not change a moment of that, except maybe come up with something better to yell at her before it all went down. Maybe things wouldn't end up like they were right now.
She had a gun, didn't she? Of course, Catarina made a whole stink about not having a gun when the other two did, it would make no sense if she was just starting to misremember that now. That request, to not come out? That was a threat. She looked over at the young they/them panicking and looking around. She caught their glance. Her brow furrowed, before climbing her forehead.
That was the only door, so the only way out was the windows. The door was on one side of the room, the windows were on the other. The door was where Catarina had introduced herself yesterday, the windows were where the other two had seen that...thing, apparently, or at least that's how they told the story. As much as she wanted to run, to bolt at her breakneck speed and jump through those windows like she was well-known Brazillian bombshell sexpot Arnold Schwarzenegger and get herself to safety, that wasn't how it was going to go down. She needed them to open one or more of the windows for her. She was being forced to think of a plan here, against her will.
Her fingers went to her lips as the neurons did what they did best.
Okay, let's try this out.
Catarina let out a loud gasp, and followed it up with an even louder shreik.
"OH MY GOD! IT'S HER! IT'S HER! SHE'S THE ONE WHO TRIED TO ROB ME YESTERDAY!"
She whipped her head around to the one she caught a glance from. Jarrett? She was going to need to remember their names soon. She pointed at the back windows, those things she wasn't sure if they could even open or not - she was never not surprised by the amount of windows that should be able to open that were instead just panes of glass surrounded by ugly splotches of sealant. Either way, she needed to buy some time, and to that end, she loudly clomped in her uggs over to where Darren was, close to the door, and grabbed him by the arm.
"DARREN PLEASE, DON'T LET HER IN! I TOLD YOU ABOUT HER, SHE TRIED TO TAKE EVERYTHING I HAD YESTERDAY!"
In her natural habitat, Catarina could be a bit of a drama queen. When she wasn't, she had plenty of people to learn from. And now? It was time for Masterpiece Theatre.
Oh. That puta. She would know that voice anywhere.
The one who mocked her yesterday, who treated her like dog doodoo. Who ran off as she was about to be mugged, and left her on her own. Not that she was obligated to help, but the opposite of helping stung just as much. If she could rewind her own timeline, she'd not change a moment of that, except maybe come up with something better to yell at her before it all went down. Maybe things wouldn't end up like they were right now.
She had a gun, didn't she? Of course, Catarina made a whole stink about not having a gun when the other two did, it would make no sense if she was just starting to misremember that now. That request, to not come out? That was a threat. She looked over at the young they/them panicking and looking around. She caught their glance. Her brow furrowed, before climbing her forehead.
That was the only door, so the only way out was the windows. The door was on one side of the room, the windows were on the other. The door was where Catarina had introduced herself yesterday, the windows were where the other two had seen that...thing, apparently, or at least that's how they told the story. As much as she wanted to run, to bolt at her breakneck speed and jump through those windows like she was well-known Brazillian bombshell sexpot Arnold Schwarzenegger and get herself to safety, that wasn't how it was going to go down. She needed them to open one or more of the windows for her. She was being forced to think of a plan here, against her will.
Her fingers went to her lips as the neurons did what they did best.
Okay, let's try this out.
Catarina let out a loud gasp, and followed it up with an even louder shreik.
"OH MY GOD! IT'S HER! IT'S HER! SHE'S THE ONE WHO TRIED TO ROB ME YESTERDAY!"
She whipped her head around to the one she caught a glance from. Jarrett? She was going to need to remember their names soon. She pointed at the back windows, those things she wasn't sure if they could even open or not - she was never not surprised by the amount of windows that should be able to open that were instead just panes of glass surrounded by ugly splotches of sealant. Either way, she needed to buy some time, and to that end, she loudly clomped in her uggs over to where Darren was, close to the door, and grabbed him by the arm.
"DARREN PLEASE, DON'T LET HER IN! I TOLD YOU ABOUT HER, SHE TRIED TO TAKE EVERYTHING I HAD YESTERDAY!"
In her natural habitat, Catarina could be a bit of a drama queen. When she wasn't, she had plenty of people to learn from. And now? It was time for Masterpiece Theatre.
Darren stops, freezing up as the voice outside makes itself known.
The camera was jerked as Cat tugs on his arm, a bead of sweat running down Darren's brow when she revealed the newcomer to be the very person who had robbed her the other day. He looked to Jarret, who seemed to be looking to him for answers.
Darren stood there like a deer in the headlights at first, unsure what to do when there was only one way out, unless you counted the windows. He fumbles for the bone tucked into his belt, slowly pulling it out as he tries to quickly think of a way out of their predicament. With a nervous gulp, he silently gestures to the others to make their way towards the window, as he inched close enough to the door to ram it shut should whoever was out there try to barge on in.
"H-Hey..." he says to the person outside, bone in one hand and camera in the other. "Look, we... We're not interested in any trouble! Let's just..."
He wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing between Cat and the door. "Let's just take a breather. We're all scared here, let's not... Let's not do anything hasty, okay?"
The camera was jerked as Cat tugs on his arm, a bead of sweat running down Darren's brow when she revealed the newcomer to be the very person who had robbed her the other day. He looked to Jarret, who seemed to be looking to him for answers.
Darren stood there like a deer in the headlights at first, unsure what to do when there was only one way out, unless you counted the windows. He fumbles for the bone tucked into his belt, slowly pulling it out as he tries to quickly think of a way out of their predicament. With a nervous gulp, he silently gestures to the others to make their way towards the window, as he inched close enough to the door to ram it shut should whoever was out there try to barge on in.
"H-Hey..." he says to the person outside, bone in one hand and camera in the other. "Look, we... We're not interested in any trouble! Let's just..."
He wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing between Cat and the door. "Let's just take a breather. We're all scared here, let's not... Let's not do anything hasty, okay?"
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
-
Dr Adjective
- Posts: 139
- Joined: Fri Oct 28, 2022 9:22 pm
- Location: i am living in your walls
The plan was simple. Esther was going to quietly tiptoe away down the corridor. She was going to do that whilst keeping her gun trained on the door. If they didn't come out, fantastic, she'd go upstairs and hopefully they wouldn't be able to tell where she'd gone from sound alone. If they did, well... that's what the gun was for. Scare them off. Simple. No need to actually shoot anyone, she didn't need to see another corpse already, just fire over their heads and yell some.
It was a good plan. Simple and effective. Get herself upstairs and keep alert, keep her gun pointing at the way up, be safe.
What a shame that she was Esther Ježek, and not a sensible person.
"What the fuck!?"
In a way, it was nice to know the screaming lady had found some friends and some safety. Esther felt pretty bad about leaving her the way she had - not bad enough to make up for it or even really apologise, but bad in a general sense. Other than that though, she was just a mixture of confused and angry. Admittedly, the actual culprit had looked kind of similar to her, physically speaking. Fashion choices not so much. But her voice could hardly be more different: Tahsin had sounded home-grown Washingtonian, a pretty strong contrast with Esther's own thick Chicago accent.
"You fucking with me er what!?"
It occurred to her, briefly, that holding a conversation by way of yelling through a door was a little odd. Subconsciously, she found herself drifting closer to the door.
"That was..."
Oh yeah. She didn't know Tess' name. Or really how to refer to them at all. Shit.
It was a good plan. Simple and effective. Get herself upstairs and keep alert, keep her gun pointing at the way up, be safe.
What a shame that she was Esther Ježek, and not a sensible person.
"What the fuck!?"
In a way, it was nice to know the screaming lady had found some friends and some safety. Esther felt pretty bad about leaving her the way she had - not bad enough to make up for it or even really apologise, but bad in a general sense. Other than that though, she was just a mixture of confused and angry. Admittedly, the actual culprit had looked kind of similar to her, physically speaking. Fashion choices not so much. But her voice could hardly be more different: Tahsin had sounded home-grown Washingtonian, a pretty strong contrast with Esther's own thick Chicago accent.
"You fucking with me er what!?"
It occurred to her, briefly, that holding a conversation by way of yelling through a door was a little odd. Subconsciously, she found herself drifting closer to the door.
"That was..."
Oh yeah. She didn't know Tess' name. Or really how to refer to them at all. Shit.
SOTF: U
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One: -> Step Two: -> Step Three: -> Step Four: -> Step Five: -> Step Six: -> †
One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
Esther Ježek
Status: Deceased (Vaporised)
Last equipped with: PPSh-41 submachinegun (3x 35 round box magazines)
Last seen: The Docks. In a warehouse.
Ⓐ
Step One:
-> Step Two: -> Step Three: -> Step Four: -> Step Five: -> Step Six: -> †One Room Death Game - Charlotte Torres & her opossum plush (subscribe to Goblin Town!)
-
MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 250
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: Hanging Onto A Buoy For Dear Life
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
- Contact:
High alert! Jarrett unfroze at Catarina's screaming and went right for the sword, lifting it off of the desk and shambling awkwardly over to the windows to try and see if they could get unstuck. Darren went for the diplomatic approach, and the voice (strangely, as if there was any reason she could be believed at all) denied, while Jarrett seemed to be the only one to remember that being robbed meant weapon and weapon could mean gun. It could also mean sword, but Jarrett didn't want to get stuck all the way out in Snowman's Land and still manage to die in a fucking school.
It was no use, really. The windows had frozen shut decades ago. Jarrett gave it one medium-power shoulder bang before they remembered the glass would cut them the fuck up if they succeeded.
"No use," Jarrett said, "there's only one way out of here."
They looked at Catarina, and mouthed gun? as obviously as they could, not wanting whoever was on the other side to hear their asking and answer for them. Darren could play at negotiating with a highway woman. He was in charge of production; let him get her to sign the media release form.
It was no use, really. The windows had frozen shut decades ago. Jarrett gave it one medium-power shoulder bang before they remembered the glass would cut them the fuck up if they succeeded.
"No use," Jarrett said, "there's only one way out of here."
They looked at Catarina, and mouthed gun? as obviously as they could, not wanting whoever was on the other side to hear their asking and answer for them. Darren could play at negotiating with a highway woman. He was in charge of production; let him get her to sign the media release form.
The entire act must have taken the girl outside off-guard, because she was stuttering and stammering like she'd just been accused of defecating in the papal tiara. Catarina could have grinned like the cheshire cat at these turn of events - good, that was the intention. She was the enemy, and these two were who Catarina needed on her side.
She shivered, mostly from the cold, but she felt her body exxagerate the feeling to make herself shake. Oh what fun it was to play pretend, but it would be even more fun once they were able to get out of there, except no they weren't because why did they just tell her they weren't able to get out?
Catarina was ready to grab them and throw them through the window herself, probably solving all of her immediate problems right here and now. How could they do that? Were they stoned? How stoned were they? What would possess them to tell the girl outside that? Still, that didn't stop Catarina's acting gig, so she simply started gripping Darren's arm tighter and yelling even louder.
"WHAT? OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
She turned back towards the person mouthing words at her. Gun? Yeah, of course she had a gun, that's how their whole thing started yesterday. Oh, right, they probably wanted to know that. She caught their glance, and nodded hurriedly.
Of course, Catarina had one way of getting out of here. One person may not have been able to open those windows...but how about a whole suitcase?
She shivered, mostly from the cold, but she felt her body exxagerate the feeling to make herself shake. Oh what fun it was to play pretend, but it would be even more fun once they were able to get out of there, except no they weren't because why did they just tell her they weren't able to get out?
Catarina was ready to grab them and throw them through the window herself, probably solving all of her immediate problems right here and now. How could they do that? Were they stoned? How stoned were they? What would possess them to tell the girl outside that? Still, that didn't stop Catarina's acting gig, so she simply started gripping Darren's arm tighter and yelling even louder.
"WHAT? OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
She turned back towards the person mouthing words at her. Gun? Yeah, of course she had a gun, that's how their whole thing started yesterday. Oh, right, they probably wanted to know that. She caught their glance, and nodded hurriedly.
Of course, Catarina had one way of getting out of here. One person may not have been able to open those windows...but how about a whole suitcase?