"That's not good."
What.
Fuckin'...
Michael froze in his tracks as the world's most obvious statement blasted in his ears. The absolute dumbfuckery of the words that escaped Zubin's mouth shook Michael's soul to the very core...
Michael's head turned 360 degrees as audible pops emitted from his vertibrae. Once his head was looking directly in Zubin's direction, his neck stretched to insane levels moving down the hall like some creepy ass grudge shit, before coiling around Zubin and staring him right in the eyes.
..
.
"̡̡̹̯̦̘̥̣̻͗̆͛̽̍̾́̄Ḧ̛͎̰͉̱́́͐̋̈̅̆̿͐ͅë̛͕̺͍͖̖́̑̊͢͝͞ý̵̛͙̦̤̤̻̲̘͉͂̐̀̏͌̑͠,̢̹̜̝̲͕̖̟̂̌̊̋̀ Ẉ̡͔̠̮͙̺̥͙̭͐̽̋̊́͗́͛̒ǎ̶̬̻̩̺̱̭͕͈͐̄̎̀̉̿̓̔͟͢l̷̼͎͓̩̦̣̞̀̃̑̓̃ü̧̻͈͈̰͕͍̹͉̐̽͑͜͠͞i̴̧̲͍͉͖̱̪͓͈̽͛̔̎͗̉͋ͅg̷͉̺̟̟̭̦̗̤̅͑̐̓̀̍͑̕͡͝ĭ̴̡͍̯̯͍̙̲̞͂͒͑̄̚͝.̴̟̘̜̝̼͆̂̒̈́̊̐͗̈́̋͢ͅ.̸̰̥̮̝̤͚͙͛̈́̈́̒̃̃̓͒͢ͅ.̷͍̠̣͚̥̻̯̳͈͛̑̆̓͂͊̌́̅̕"̢̨͇̥̹̗̗̄̈́̓̊̈́̐̊͒͘̕ͅ
̶̧̧̣͍̻̰͙͂͂̎̑̈́͞
̶̝͙̹͍̩̙͋̽͒̆̑̀͊̈́͐͞"̡̛̮̻̖̜̭͔̻̯̈́̄̐͠͡Ņ̪̠͖͙͉̯̎̽͊͒͊́͜o̟̲̞̦͎͖̹͌̀̃̃̀̍͡ s̷̡̹̫̻̠͉̊̈̌̊̆̓͘̕͡ͅḩ̛̖̫͍̟͑̄̎̿́i̷̡̮̻̰͈̾͂̀͒̊̀̏̕ţ̸̰͔̼̗̦̲̬͓̍̿̏̎͜͡ ş̸͍̜͖͖̞̣̈͂͊͛͑̅͑h̴̛͉͇̹̯̳̥̲̻̦̐̏͐̈́̒͟e̵̡̘̜̮͚̾̉̓̾͢͝r̘͙̮̻̺͍̒͂̇̔̕͞͝l̗̳̤͍̖̺͉̐̿̒̈́͋̎͜͠͞ͅo̷̗̤̯̮̩͂̃͋̓̅͆̕͠c̶̢̨͙̜̹̻̗̮͚͍̾̆͑̎͝k̷̢̨̗̮̥̊̔̽̑̄̑̽͢!̖̰͍̼̗͚̉̋̔̽̕̕͘͟͠ͅͅ"̵̗̪̬̞̆̊̒̃̕͘͢͢͠
͈͍̣̩̃̀͗̑̔̎͂͆̆ͅ
.
.
...
Okay, none of that happened, but after the extreme case of the stupids he had just witnessed, he had to go crazy just for a moment to cope with all the dumb that was released. He simply turned to Zubin's direction and blurted out "Yeah, no shit, and it ain't gonna get any better unless you wanna join in and help!"
It didn't really matter too much though, Ramona and Felicia came in to prop Max up and help give him the assistance he needs. Ramona asked if Mike knew about first aid. That was a question. He felt himself bite his medical mask from within...
"If you'd asked me like two hours earlier, I'd say nah, but after some of the shit I had to do, it turns out I'm actually a quick fuckin' learner. Fancy that, eh? Yeah, I think we can do this no problem... We got this!"
Everyone began to prop up Max, taking away the used bandages on his arm to give him a better treatment. It was weird, a bunch of people he really didn't know, and for once they weren't acting paranoid or trying to murder him. It was kind of nice, to be honest. Everyone grouped up, got their shit together, and began working towards a common goal.
It was really something wasn't it?
Maxwell wasn't going to die today, that was for sure. Hell, while he was rambling about stopping people, Mike reached in the medical kit and pulled out the needle and thread he'd need for this. By now his wound was already disinfected. He looked back at Maxwell, knowing full well the experience he had coming next.
"Alright, I ain't gonna lie to you, this is gonna hurt like a bitch, so, if you need to scream, tense up, curse, bite something, maybe make three stooges noises or something, that's okay. After this, all we gotta do is bandage you up though, so you're almost done. You ready? Alright, count of five... One... Two-"
The needle pierced the flesh.
"Alright, let's disinfect one more time and wrap him up." Michael began placing his tools back in the box as he looked at Max's now closed up wound. From the looks of it, it seemed like a job well done. Sure it involved a lot of gritted teeth, but if you're willing to get stuck in, you gotta be willing to get stuck too, you know?
"Ay man, you good?"
Now This Looks Like A Job For Me, So Everybody… Just Follow Me
because these tunnels need a little controversy, and it feels so empty without an open thread
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
He knew that the words he said were stupid, but his head had blanked. Luckily, the others there seemed to have everything in hand while they helped ... it seemed to be Maxwell Lombardi.
"Ugh, shit, sorry." Zubin said. "My head just crapped out. Would it be too much to ask exactly what happened before I got here?"
"Ugh, shit, sorry." Zubin said. "My head just crapped out. Would it be too much to ask exactly what happened before I got here?"
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
Well, at least Zu-that was his name! Zubin or something. He did a lot of shit around school, didn't he? Ramona was sure she'd seen him around, but then again she did make an effort to be on good terms with most of P.J. Hobbs' student body, so perhaps that wasn't too surprising. He did shut up though, probably at the prompting of Not-So-Douchey Anymore Michael, and so she nodded at him to get the point across.
Even Felicia was shouting at Zubin to get him to stop speaking, and she would have thought that meant pretty good things for her sorta-friend's assertiveness, if they weren't on this fucking island. Still though, Maxwell was speaking, and that wasn't exactly a good thing. That didn't exactly help keep the wound still, did it?
Gritting her teeth, she continued to help prop the boy up. "Max, Max, you've gotta stop speaking, okay? Just for a bit, just so we can help fix you up real good. Don't worry, I'ma help make sure it all goes smooth."
Shirleys stayed calm under pressure, helped the injured out and did good deeds. Ramona was definitely doing that, even if her stomach dropped a bit at Michael starting to grab a needle and thread. It wasn't as if she was unused to the sight of a needle and thread; in fact, she had used it quite a bit, especially because she was still creating fairly basic jewellery, but the sight of it still freaked her out. Just a bit, though.
That's what she told herself, at the very least.
Maybe it would've been better to offer to help patch up the wound instead, considering that she probably had a steadier hand and all of that jazz, but he had said he had some experience with patching stuff up, and with Michael wearing that face mask, she guessed he probably had some practical knowledge about all of this. Probably.
Continuing to keep Maxwell steady, she heard Michael start to count down, and started her own mental countdown of her own, trying to steady her heartbeat. Needless to say, Ramona was more than a bit surprised at the sudden piercing of the needle into the guy, wincing a bit in sympathy. But, keep calm. Don't mess this shit up. She could do it. Always could.
Didn't make it any more appealing to look at, however.
Well, it seemed like everything had gone fairly smoothly, so that was a relief. She let out a sigh of that contentment out as she began to take out some more of the anti-infection wipes from her own bag, presenting them to Michael. "This should work, right? Lemme just go dab a bit on there."
Cautiously, her hand, with the wipes in hand, began to slowly clean the now stitched-up wound, trying to make sure that it wouldn't get dirty all over again. Engrossed in her task as she was, Ramona heard Zubin begin to speak again, and so her head turned back in his direction, still holding out the tissues.
"Well, you want the long or short of all of this? I mean, Felicia and I were just walking 'down the tunnels, looking for our other friend, and then here's Maxwell," She pointed at the guy they were currently in the process of treating. "as well as Mike, just talking. Then, Max sees her, starts walking, falls over. Pretty much the rundown on all that happened."
Ramona pursed her lips.
"Make sense to you? Because I kinda need to get back to cleaning this guy's wound."
Even Felicia was shouting at Zubin to get him to stop speaking, and she would have thought that meant pretty good things for her sorta-friend's assertiveness, if they weren't on this fucking island. Still though, Maxwell was speaking, and that wasn't exactly a good thing. That didn't exactly help keep the wound still, did it?
Gritting her teeth, she continued to help prop the boy up. "Max, Max, you've gotta stop speaking, okay? Just for a bit, just so we can help fix you up real good. Don't worry, I'ma help make sure it all goes smooth."
Shirleys stayed calm under pressure, helped the injured out and did good deeds. Ramona was definitely doing that, even if her stomach dropped a bit at Michael starting to grab a needle and thread. It wasn't as if she was unused to the sight of a needle and thread; in fact, she had used it quite a bit, especially because she was still creating fairly basic jewellery, but the sight of it still freaked her out. Just a bit, though.
That's what she told herself, at the very least.
Maybe it would've been better to offer to help patch up the wound instead, considering that she probably had a steadier hand and all of that jazz, but he had said he had some experience with patching stuff up, and with Michael wearing that face mask, she guessed he probably had some practical knowledge about all of this. Probably.
Continuing to keep Maxwell steady, she heard Michael start to count down, and started her own mental countdown of her own, trying to steady her heartbeat. Needless to say, Ramona was more than a bit surprised at the sudden piercing of the needle into the guy, wincing a bit in sympathy. But, keep calm. Don't mess this shit up. She could do it. Always could.
Didn't make it any more appealing to look at, however.
Well, it seemed like everything had gone fairly smoothly, so that was a relief. She let out a sigh of that contentment out as she began to take out some more of the anti-infection wipes from her own bag, presenting them to Michael. "This should work, right? Lemme just go dab a bit on there."
Cautiously, her hand, with the wipes in hand, began to slowly clean the now stitched-up wound, trying to make sure that it wouldn't get dirty all over again. Engrossed in her task as she was, Ramona heard Zubin begin to speak again, and so her head turned back in his direction, still holding out the tissues.
"Well, you want the long or short of all of this? I mean, Felicia and I were just walking 'down the tunnels, looking for our other friend, and then here's Maxwell," She pointed at the guy they were currently in the process of treating. "as well as Mike, just talking. Then, Max sees her, starts walking, falls over. Pretty much the rundown on all that happened."
Ramona pursed her lips.
"Make sense to you? Because I kinda need to get back to cleaning this guy's wound."
Escape?
Despite Maxwell’s current state, Felicia frowned. She had to think about that. It wasn’t like escaping wasn’t something that she wanted. Far from it. She wanted to go home, and be safe, and for any more people to not get hurt. It was just…
Was it possible?
She heard Michael call out to Zubin, but she paid it no mind. It seemed like he didn’t know that much first aid, though. But, something happened, two hours ago. He was wearing a mask, so she couldn’t see his face that well, especially since it was dark. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to what happened “two hours ago.”
“Let’s just… get you fixed up first, okay?”
Felicia decided she didn’t want to watch the needle go in. She’d never been too good with that sort of thing, and she didn’t think now was the best time to cure that fear.
Eventually, she looked. The wound seemed to look better? She’d tried her best to keep him steady, while the others worked. She wished she could do more. But it seemed that Maxwell was okay, at least for the time being. It just needed a bit more disinfecting, by the look of things.
Zubin was still here. To be honest, Felicia did have some issues with him looking back. He’d run for student council this year, but he’d done it for… particularly cynical reasons. Why would you run if you don’t think anything was going to change? It was odd, and she remembered feeling annoyed. But he didn’t seem harmful? Just out of the loop.
Ramona explained it better than she could, really. Maxwell was shot, Maxwell talked to Michael, her and Ramona came across them while looking for Yumi, they tried to give first aid. Pretty quick and easy to explain.
She decided to check up on Max.
“Hey, Max?” she asked. “How are you feeling so far?”
She couldn’t remember how well he tolerated needles and such. It was funny, they dated, remained friends afterwards, but she was drawing a blank on that. But maybe he needed water, or aspirin, or just someone to talk to. A conversation sometimes worked to distract someone from medical stuff.
Despite Maxwell’s current state, Felicia frowned. She had to think about that. It wasn’t like escaping wasn’t something that she wanted. Far from it. She wanted to go home, and be safe, and for any more people to not get hurt. It was just…
Was it possible?
She heard Michael call out to Zubin, but she paid it no mind. It seemed like he didn’t know that much first aid, though. But, something happened, two hours ago. He was wearing a mask, so she couldn’t see his face that well, especially since it was dark. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to what happened “two hours ago.”
“Let’s just… get you fixed up first, okay?”
Felicia decided she didn’t want to watch the needle go in. She’d never been too good with that sort of thing, and she didn’t think now was the best time to cure that fear.
Eventually, she looked. The wound seemed to look better? She’d tried her best to keep him steady, while the others worked. She wished she could do more. But it seemed that Maxwell was okay, at least for the time being. It just needed a bit more disinfecting, by the look of things.
Zubin was still here. To be honest, Felicia did have some issues with him looking back. He’d run for student council this year, but he’d done it for… particularly cynical reasons. Why would you run if you don’t think anything was going to change? It was odd, and she remembered feeling annoyed. But he didn’t seem harmful? Just out of the loop.
Ramona explained it better than she could, really. Maxwell was shot, Maxwell talked to Michael, her and Ramona came across them while looking for Yumi, they tried to give first aid. Pretty quick and easy to explain.
She decided to check up on Max.
“Hey, Max?” she asked. “How are you feeling so far?”
She couldn’t remember how well he tolerated needles and such. It was funny, they dated, remained friends afterwards, but she was drawing a blank on that. But maybe he needed water, or aspirin, or just someone to talk to. A conversation sometimes worked to distract someone from medical stuff.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
He heard the calls, the assurances that everything would be okay and that even though the needle would sting he didn’t have to worry about anything at all. The pain would only be temporary and once he was fixed up he would be fresh as fresh could be.
Honestly, he would have appreciated it more had they been honest, but he wasn’t going to complain. They were going to fix him. Even though it benefitted them to leave him to leave him alone - even though Michael was everything but a friend to Maxwell back - they had decided to help him. They had decided that they weren’t going to let him bleed out and die in these tunnels.
Honestly, Maxwell didn’t know what to make of their kindness.
And he didn’t know why he didn’t. He knew the case was simple - Felicia was a friend, and Ramona was the type of person to help out anyone they met. Michael constantly spouted that eighties tough guy image but anyone could tell that that was a facade. That Michael wouldn’t be the type of person to turn his back and let someone die. It was simple. Easy to understand and yet so hard at the same time because things had changed since the last time they had been at school. This island was all around them. This game was being played and Maxwell knew that it couldn’t be won by helping the people around you, so knowing that why would they help him? Why would they willingly keep someone else in the competition?
He wasn’t sure.
If anything, this was good.
At least someone would help him.
At least there were others on this island still willing to do that.
And he supposed that that meant something. That the three around him weren’t the only ones willing to help. That there were more people out there just like them, just like him. That there were people out there who weren’t willing to let the game change them.
And if anything, that was good.
Because if anything, that meant that this game was possibly beatable, after all.
In all honesty, the surgery wasn’t even that bad.
Because even though the needle hurt, even though he would have preferred not to feel the pain if possible it didn’t feel as bad as Maxwell thought it would. Even though he could feel his flesh scream as the needle curled around it it had barely compared to all the other things. The gunshot through his shoulder. The voice up above - Victor - calling the names of people he cared about. They had hurt. Far more than anything else on this island, in his life.
And he supposed that once one felt their true depths anything else would only barely come up in comparison.
He was against the tunnel wall, watching the group around him as he waited for Ramona or Felicia to come back and clean him up. As it turned out, the fifth person he had noticed was Zubin. He was… a friend. A definite one. Maxwell wasn’t sure why he considered otherwise for a moment. It was true that he was only partially within the popular clique, it was true that he was… sort of an oddball, but he had his uses all the same, back then. Primarily for gossip. Primarily for information about all his fellow classmates. Primarily as a way for Maxwell to find out what was happening around him, make the moves he needed to make in order for him to stay on top of the totem pole.
And he supposed that still made him welcome, in Maxwell’s eyes. There was no point in distrusting him, even if Maxwell had no clue of what he had done on this island yet.
No.
There wasn’t.
He was still welcome, even after everything. He sent a nod and a smile Zubin’s way as Felicia and Michael honed in on him, asking him questions.
“I’ve…”
He paused. Felt the strain in his shoulder as he almost lifted his hand up.
“Felt better, but I’m okay. Better than I was when you found me.”
He paused.
Brought his other hand up to his hair this time as he scratched it, looking down.
“Thanks for helping me.”
Honestly, he would have appreciated it more had they been honest, but he wasn’t going to complain. They were going to fix him. Even though it benefitted them to leave him to leave him alone - even though Michael was everything but a friend to Maxwell back - they had decided to help him. They had decided that they weren’t going to let him bleed out and die in these tunnels.
Honestly, Maxwell didn’t know what to make of their kindness.
And he didn’t know why he didn’t. He knew the case was simple - Felicia was a friend, and Ramona was the type of person to help out anyone they met. Michael constantly spouted that eighties tough guy image but anyone could tell that that was a facade. That Michael wouldn’t be the type of person to turn his back and let someone die. It was simple. Easy to understand and yet so hard at the same time because things had changed since the last time they had been at school. This island was all around them. This game was being played and Maxwell knew that it couldn’t be won by helping the people around you, so knowing that why would they help him? Why would they willingly keep someone else in the competition?
He wasn’t sure.
If anything, this was good.
At least someone would help him.
At least there were others on this island still willing to do that.
And he supposed that that meant something. That the three around him weren’t the only ones willing to help. That there were more people out there just like them, just like him. That there were people out there who weren’t willing to let the game change them.
And if anything, that was good.
Because if anything, that meant that this game was possibly beatable, after all.
In all honesty, the surgery wasn’t even that bad.
Because even though the needle hurt, even though he would have preferred not to feel the pain if possible it didn’t feel as bad as Maxwell thought it would. Even though he could feel his flesh scream as the needle curled around it it had barely compared to all the other things. The gunshot through his shoulder. The voice up above - Victor - calling the names of people he cared about. They had hurt. Far more than anything else on this island, in his life.
And he supposed that once one felt their true depths anything else would only barely come up in comparison.
He was against the tunnel wall, watching the group around him as he waited for Ramona or Felicia to come back and clean him up. As it turned out, the fifth person he had noticed was Zubin. He was… a friend. A definite one. Maxwell wasn’t sure why he considered otherwise for a moment. It was true that he was only partially within the popular clique, it was true that he was… sort of an oddball, but he had his uses all the same, back then. Primarily for gossip. Primarily for information about all his fellow classmates. Primarily as a way for Maxwell to find out what was happening around him, make the moves he needed to make in order for him to stay on top of the totem pole.
And he supposed that still made him welcome, in Maxwell’s eyes. There was no point in distrusting him, even if Maxwell had no clue of what he had done on this island yet.
No.
There wasn’t.
He was still welcome, even after everything. He sent a nod and a smile Zubin’s way as Felicia and Michael honed in on him, asking him questions.
“I’ve…”
He paused. Felt the strain in his shoulder as he almost lifted his hand up.
“Felt better, but I’m okay. Better than I was when you found me.”
He paused.
Brought his other hand up to his hair this time as he scratched it, looking down.
“Thanks for helping me.”
Yeah, Maxwell was good. After all the shit that happened, Michael knew at the very least he wasn't going to die today.
Maxwell Lombardi was not going to die today.
Not only that, but there were people here who weren't crazy, who wanted to help, who wanted to beat this. They could beat this, they could! Maybe if they had more people, they could all fuck shit up, players wouldn't want to fuck with them, hell, maybe a few would join them.
Oh shit! He had to find Scarlett and Everett!
It was then Michael realized he didn't have any more time to waste. He had to find them soon, before it turned out like what happened to Simon.
Michael took the time disinfect Max's shoulder one last time before pulling out some bandages.
"Hey, listen... You guys are fuckin' cool, right? Like, none of you are running around killing people for fun 'n shit, so I know I can trust you guys if I need to, but I can't really stay any longer... There's a couple people I got split off from..."
Michael finished bandaging Maxwell before he continued.
"Alright, so this is gonna sound hypocritical of me considering what I just said a few seconds ago, but don't split up. You guys are alright, and if you stick together, you got a better chance of making it, especially considering who else is out there. I mean, I don't really know shit about who's playing outside of someone else, but, if someone is willing to play, and do the fucked up shit he did, then I know others are."
He started putting away everything in his first aid kit again, hooking it closed.
"So I'm gonna find my friends, and I'm gonna try to make my way back to you guys. After that, I don't know, but more of us means more ideas on getting the fuck out of here, and I'd rather not be the victim of some punk ass bitches who need us to do their job for them."
He put everything back in his bag, before he forced himself to stand up. His leg nearly slipped from under him, and that familiar pain from the warehouse came back. Michael gasped and grasped for the wound down there, cursing and taking a second to recover himself. He looked back to the others.
"You guys protect Max, alright? With his arm I don't know how well he'd do on his own, don't let him out of your sight, because other wise someone's gonna take advantage of him, and trust me, I've seen some fucked up shit you don't even wanna know about... I fucking mean it when I say someone would try some shit with him, and I ain't just talking about murder. Don't let him out of your sight, you keep his ass protected if you care about him, right?"
He pushed off from the wall, pointing his light down the tunnel as he started hobbling down it with an odd gait. He turned back one last time.
"I'll see you guys soon, 'an I'll bring some friends! Be careful, 'aight!"
The light kept moving further down the tunnel until it disappeared entirely...
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
Maxwell Lombardi was not going to die today.
Not only that, but there were people here who weren't crazy, who wanted to help, who wanted to beat this. They could beat this, they could! Maybe if they had more people, they could all fuck shit up, players wouldn't want to fuck with them, hell, maybe a few would join them.
Oh shit! He had to find Scarlett and Everett!
It was then Michael realized he didn't have any more time to waste. He had to find them soon, before it turned out like what happened to Simon.
Michael took the time disinfect Max's shoulder one last time before pulling out some bandages.
"Hey, listen... You guys are fuckin' cool, right? Like, none of you are running around killing people for fun 'n shit, so I know I can trust you guys if I need to, but I can't really stay any longer... There's a couple people I got split off from..."
Michael finished bandaging Maxwell before he continued.
"Alright, so this is gonna sound hypocritical of me considering what I just said a few seconds ago, but don't split up. You guys are alright, and if you stick together, you got a better chance of making it, especially considering who else is out there. I mean, I don't really know shit about who's playing outside of someone else, but, if someone is willing to play, and do the fucked up shit he did, then I know others are."
He started putting away everything in his first aid kit again, hooking it closed.
"So I'm gonna find my friends, and I'm gonna try to make my way back to you guys. After that, I don't know, but more of us means more ideas on getting the fuck out of here, and I'd rather not be the victim of some punk ass bitches who need us to do their job for them."
He put everything back in his bag, before he forced himself to stand up. His leg nearly slipped from under him, and that familiar pain from the warehouse came back. Michael gasped and grasped for the wound down there, cursing and taking a second to recover himself. He looked back to the others.
"You guys protect Max, alright? With his arm I don't know how well he'd do on his own, don't let him out of your sight, because other wise someone's gonna take advantage of him, and trust me, I've seen some fucked up shit you don't even wanna know about... I fucking mean it when I say someone would try some shit with him, and I ain't just talking about murder. Don't let him out of your sight, you keep his ass protected if you care about him, right?"
He pushed off from the wall, pointing his light down the tunnel as he started hobbling down it with an odd gait. He turned back one last time.
"I'll see you guys soon, 'an I'll bring some friends! Be careful, 'aight!"
The light kept moving further down the tunnel until it disappeared entirely...
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
They took care of Maxwell. That was good. He wasn't exactly feeling as hot as he was on The Bus, but that was to be expected. How he came to need his shoulder fixed was still unknown.
The other guy with them managed to finish up on him, and then give some advice: don't split up, keep Maxwell safe, I'll look for my friends. And then he left, leaving the four of them together.
"While I don't disagree with him, I'm going to ask: should we follow him? We can figure out a game plan on the way or while we rest."
The other guy with them managed to finish up on him, and then give some advice: don't split up, keep Maxwell safe, I'll look for my friends. And then he left, leaving the four of them together.
"While I don't disagree with him, I'm going to ask: should we follow him? We can figure out a game plan on the way or while we rest."
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
They had mainly patched up Maxwell, had gotten most of the tough stuff done already. They did it. They helped this injured guy not end up bleeding to death on this godforsaken mess of a place, and yeah, they did it, and Ramona helped to do it. Helped someone out on this island, even if it was only something like this. Every little bit counted, right?
Every little helpful thing helped to keep Lyndi off her mind, at least.
She instinctually gulped at that memory, feeling her saliva run down her throat. He said he felt better now, thanking them for helping out, and she couldn't help but feel some elation at that. Good deeds, just one at a time. It still had to be possible. Still was.
Just as they finished completing all of the little things, putting a clean bandage over Max's wound, Mike said he had to go. Said he had to find some people, find his friends, and that he'd bring them back here. She was about to call out to him again, say that they were gonna follow, but it only took a few footsteps before he went. Just like Yumi. Still wished him good luck, though. He wasn't a total douche after all, and from what he'd said earlier, and also how he looked, he seemed like he'd gotten more than a bit messed up.
Not as if Ramona couldn't testify to that though, as she felt her face and found the black eye once more, swollen shut by that hard punch. The punch by Jay, the one she'd gotten after she tackled him, because he had no right to kill Lyndi like that, had all the rights to get mutilated by a pack of hungry dogs, to burn in fucking Hell, but -
Ramona breathed. Breathed in deeply, before breathing out, feeling all the pent-up air escape her like a deflating bouncy house. Couldn't get angry, not now. Shirleys didn't do that. People back in Denton didn't just go up and do that. Had to keep on being her, couldn't let herself change.
So, she smiled at Max, a small one. "No problem, hon." She said, still grinning. "But be careful, okay?"
Max was all good for now, but who knew even in just a few hours? It could change so quickly, but she supposed it was better to focus on the here and now, such as the here and now of Zubin speaking about whether they should follow Michael, about making plans.
She turned her head in his direction, looking straight into his eyes.
"You know, maybe we should just listen to what Mike said, you know? He wants to find his friends, we should probably go elsewhere for a bit, find people."
Yumi. Rachael. So many. Too many.
"Probably should get going, though. Staying right here is not doing wonders for my air supply."
Every little helpful thing helped to keep Lyndi off her mind, at least.
She instinctually gulped at that memory, feeling her saliva run down her throat. He said he felt better now, thanking them for helping out, and she couldn't help but feel some elation at that. Good deeds, just one at a time. It still had to be possible. Still was.
Just as they finished completing all of the little things, putting a clean bandage over Max's wound, Mike said he had to go. Said he had to find some people, find his friends, and that he'd bring them back here. She was about to call out to him again, say that they were gonna follow, but it only took a few footsteps before he went. Just like Yumi. Still wished him good luck, though. He wasn't a total douche after all, and from what he'd said earlier, and also how he looked, he seemed like he'd gotten more than a bit messed up.
Not as if Ramona couldn't testify to that though, as she felt her face and found the black eye once more, swollen shut by that hard punch. The punch by Jay, the one she'd gotten after she tackled him, because he had no right to kill Lyndi like that, had all the rights to get mutilated by a pack of hungry dogs, to burn in fucking Hell, but -
Ramona breathed. Breathed in deeply, before breathing out, feeling all the pent-up air escape her like a deflating bouncy house. Couldn't get angry, not now. Shirleys didn't do that. People back in Denton didn't just go up and do that. Had to keep on being her, couldn't let herself change.
So, she smiled at Max, a small one. "No problem, hon." She said, still grinning. "But be careful, okay?"
Max was all good for now, but who knew even in just a few hours? It could change so quickly, but she supposed it was better to focus on the here and now, such as the here and now of Zubin speaking about whether they should follow Michael, about making plans.
She turned her head in his direction, looking straight into his eyes.
"You know, maybe we should just listen to what Mike said, you know? He wants to find his friends, we should probably go elsewhere for a bit, find people."
Yumi. Rachael. So many. Too many.
"Probably should get going, though. Staying right here is not doing wonders for my air supply."
Felicia smiled. It was a weary smile, one that she was surprised she still had in her. Lyndi was gone, and Yumi could be too. A few times while everyone worked, she’d find her mind wandering, only to be brought back by remembering what was going on in front of her. But Max was fine, at least for the time being. If they could just find Yumi, and find a pleasant place to stay, things might be okay. She still wasn’t sure about Max’s “way” though. She still wondered if it was possible.
“It’s good you’re feeling okay,” she said.
Her arms were no longer keeping him braced, but she kept nearby.
“Hey, um… do you need water or anything?”
Then Michael spoke up, and Felicia stopped smiling.
It seemed like he’d experienced some stuff of his own, if what he said about “two hours ago” wasn’t enough. He was still wearing a medical mask, but more than that, he said there was something worse than “murder” out there. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to that, but he had a point. Someone could find him, and they could not just stop at murder. They could torture him in so many ways. She knew about what happened last time, but… Michael was leaving anyways.
Was he sure about that?
But he wanted them to stay together. He had people to look for of his own, just like how they needed to find Yumi. On cue, Felicia touched her jacket pocket. The GPS was still there, ready to be used if they needed it.
Before she could say anything, he’d slipped into the darkness, and Felicia wished she’d memorized his number a bit more closely.
Ramona once again spoke what Felicia had on her mind. But, she spoke up as well.
“I agree,” she said, hesitancy in her voice. “I mean, he said there’s some nasty stuff out there, but… it seemed like he was looking for people too. We should stay together, though, and find somewhere better to rest. It might be better for Max, at least.”
She continued touching the GPS through the fabric.
“Did anyone catch if his bag had a number on it?”
Again, she wished she’d memorized it a bit better.
“It’s good you’re feeling okay,” she said.
Her arms were no longer keeping him braced, but she kept nearby.
“Hey, um… do you need water or anything?”
Then Michael spoke up, and Felicia stopped smiling.
It seemed like he’d experienced some stuff of his own, if what he said about “two hours ago” wasn’t enough. He was still wearing a medical mask, but more than that, he said there was something worse than “murder” out there. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to that, but he had a point. Someone could find him, and they could not just stop at murder. They could torture him in so many ways. She knew about what happened last time, but… Michael was leaving anyways.
Was he sure about that?
But he wanted them to stay together. He had people to look for of his own, just like how they needed to find Yumi. On cue, Felicia touched her jacket pocket. The GPS was still there, ready to be used if they needed it.
Before she could say anything, he’d slipped into the darkness, and Felicia wished she’d memorized his number a bit more closely.
Ramona once again spoke what Felicia had on her mind. But, she spoke up as well.
“I agree,” she said, hesitancy in her voice. “I mean, he said there’s some nasty stuff out there, but… it seemed like he was looking for people too. We should stay together, though, and find somewhere better to rest. It might be better for Max, at least.”
She continued touching the GPS through the fabric.
“Did anyone catch if his bag had a number on it?”
Again, she wished she’d memorized it a bit better.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
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- Location: there is a man standing behind you
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And everything was okay. There wasn’t any problem. It was apparently good enough that Maxwell was feeling okay. He was about to open his mouth, tell Felicia that the water would be appreciated (even though the one in his bag was still full, even though he knew Felicia would need it as well), affirm what the two of them had said to him before Michael stood himself up. Told his story of pitious heroism to the other four. Left to go find his friends before something happened. Promised that this wasn’t goodbye, that somewhere down the road the group would see one another again.
And when he left, nobody had tried to stop him.
And when he disappeared from sight, nobody had called out to him.
And there was a feeling. One crawling and fluttering around his stomach. One that remembered a girl - quiet, arty - back at a cabin. One that he had said he would be back to. One that he had said he wouldn’t be gone long from.
One that was dead, one that had lost her legs and her life to Katarina Konipaski.
One that he would never see the face of again.
So he wanted to call out. Say to Michael that it was best that everyone stick together. Say that there was no way of guaranteeing that they would see each other again, given everything on this island. Make sure that Michael could be safe with him, like Felicia was. He didn’t know why he wanted that, he didn’t know why he wanted to associate with fucking Michael of all people, but it felt best. The idea of staying with him, the idea of teaming up with someone else to do something on this island sounded appealing. Sounded good. Sounded effective. If they stayed together, if they found others, Maxwell knew that they could do something, Maxwell knew that he could stop this game.
And so when Zubin suggested following him - calling him back to the group - Maxwell shook his head, said no just like Ramona and Felicia did.
And he didn’t know why.
And he didn’t know what the advantage of letting him go was.
“I don’t think there’s any point in following him,” he said. “I think we just need to find who we need to find, just as he needs to for himself.”
And the words felt empty.
Meaningless.
Because he knew he was just repeating what the other two had said. Because he was just trying to side with them, made sure they still liked him. Made sure they stayed around him, ready to take a bullet for him if need be.
And why did he want that?
If he wanted to beat this game, then why was he trying to win it?
…
…
He didn’t know.
He stood up.
Sighed.
He supposed that it was for the best if he just went along with them.
“Let’s go,” he said, picking up his bag, waiting for the moment when the rest of them were ready to return to the surface.
And when he left, nobody had tried to stop him.
And when he disappeared from sight, nobody had called out to him.
And there was a feeling. One crawling and fluttering around his stomach. One that remembered a girl - quiet, arty - back at a cabin. One that he had said he would be back to. One that he had said he wouldn’t be gone long from.
One that was dead, one that had lost her legs and her life to Katarina Konipaski.
One that he would never see the face of again.
So he wanted to call out. Say to Michael that it was best that everyone stick together. Say that there was no way of guaranteeing that they would see each other again, given everything on this island. Make sure that Michael could be safe with him, like Felicia was. He didn’t know why he wanted that, he didn’t know why he wanted to associate with fucking Michael of all people, but it felt best. The idea of staying with him, the idea of teaming up with someone else to do something on this island sounded appealing. Sounded good. Sounded effective. If they stayed together, if they found others, Maxwell knew that they could do something, Maxwell knew that he could stop this game.
And so when Zubin suggested following him - calling him back to the group - Maxwell shook his head, said no just like Ramona and Felicia did.
And he didn’t know why.
And he didn’t know what the advantage of letting him go was.
“I don’t think there’s any point in following him,” he said. “I think we just need to find who we need to find, just as he needs to for himself.”
And the words felt empty.
Meaningless.
Because he knew he was just repeating what the other two had said. Because he was just trying to side with them, made sure they still liked him. Made sure they stayed around him, ready to take a bullet for him if need be.
And why did he want that?
If he wanted to beat this game, then why was he trying to win it?
…
…
He didn’t know.
He stood up.
Sighed.
He supposed that it was for the best if he just went along with them.
“Let’s go,” he said, picking up his bag, waiting for the moment when the rest of them were ready to return to the surface.
So, don't follow him, and stay in a group. Neither Felicia nor Ramona really wanted to stay. Zubin couldn't blame them. If this place ended up a Danger Zone or whatever, then it would be easier to find their way out of a nice open building than this subterranean cavern. Zubin just shook his head at Felicia. He barely saw the bag, let alone the specific number on it.
"Let's go." Maxwell decided to stand up and get his stuff together.
He's gotta make every action sound cool without trying ... Stupid thought, but it was better than puking over death he was more than likely to bear witness to.
((Zubin Wadia continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))
"Let's go." Maxwell decided to stand up and get his stuff together.
He's gotta make every action sound cool without trying ... Stupid thought, but it was better than puking over death he was more than likely to bear witness to.
((Zubin Wadia continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
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Oh. The number of the bag. Shit.
"Sorry, but nope. Don't know what it was." Ramona said sheepishly, looking at Felicia. She should've known that he was probably on his way elsewhere, should've paid more attention to the number on his bag, but she didn't, so, there. Failure. That's what she was left with, that was what she got. Not anything else. But, she had to keep positive. keep smiling, or at least keep on trying to do productive things to keep herself going.
If she stopped, even if just for a moment, it'd all come flooding back. Besides, wasn't it safer to be on the movie, perhaps find people? Try to do better than she had last time? She supposed there was no harm in trying again. It was like hitting a brick wall, probably, but what else was there to do here other than to do good? It was the only thing she could think of doing - letting the anger ebb away, and instead do something to try to find a way out.
Now, Maxwell was standing up, and it seemed that absolutely no one wanted to stay in the tunnels. She guessed that was a good thing.
Get moving now, get stuff done later.
Where they were going to go? Ramona wasn't exactly sure of the destination, but she reckoned almost any place would be better than here, the suffocating tunnels, no light even bothering to shine through. Michael heading back into the darkness, disappearing from sight. This wasn't exactly a pleasant location.
Everyone seemed ready, and so she was ready as well. She gripped her bag tight. "So, let's go find our way back up to the surface?"
They would find their way. She was sure of it.
One step, two, and then she set off.
((Ramona Shirley continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))
"Sorry, but nope. Don't know what it was." Ramona said sheepishly, looking at Felicia. She should've known that he was probably on his way elsewhere, should've paid more attention to the number on his bag, but she didn't, so, there. Failure. That's what she was left with, that was what she got. Not anything else. But, she had to keep positive. keep smiling, or at least keep on trying to do productive things to keep herself going.
If she stopped, even if just for a moment, it'd all come flooding back. Besides, wasn't it safer to be on the movie, perhaps find people? Try to do better than she had last time? She supposed there was no harm in trying again. It was like hitting a brick wall, probably, but what else was there to do here other than to do good? It was the only thing she could think of doing - letting the anger ebb away, and instead do something to try to find a way out.
Now, Maxwell was standing up, and it seemed that absolutely no one wanted to stay in the tunnels. She guessed that was a good thing.
Get moving now, get stuff done later.
Where they were going to go? Ramona wasn't exactly sure of the destination, but she reckoned almost any place would be better than here, the suffocating tunnels, no light even bothering to shine through. Michael heading back into the darkness, disappearing from sight. This wasn't exactly a pleasant location.
Everyone seemed ready, and so she was ready as well. She gripped her bag tight. "So, let's go find our way back up to the surface?"
They would find their way. She was sure of it.
One step, two, and then she set off.
((Ramona Shirley continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))
“Easy, easy,” Felicia said as Maxwell slid up.
It was kind of a reflex. It was his shoulder, but he should still take care of himself. Injuries needed rest, and he should keep it as still as possible. The sooner they found a better place to rest, the better.
Though, Felicia couldn’t help but frown that no one else noticed the number on Michael’s bag. She’d been hoping that, if he came nearby, they could spot him on the GPS. Maybe finding a pen and paper would help, so that they could write as many numbers as possible. Where, though? That’s something they had to look for.
She slowly slid up, keeping an eye on Max. She had to take care of him. She’d let Lyndi die because of a mistake, and she let Yumi out of her sight. She didn’t even fully memorize Michael’s number to confidence. She couldn’t make any more mistakes. She… just couldn’t.
Felicia adjusted herself, then followed the rest of the group.
((Felicia LaChapelle continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))
It was kind of a reflex. It was his shoulder, but he should still take care of himself. Injuries needed rest, and he should keep it as still as possible. The sooner they found a better place to rest, the better.
Though, Felicia couldn’t help but frown that no one else noticed the number on Michael’s bag. She’d been hoping that, if he came nearby, they could spot him on the GPS. Maybe finding a pen and paper would help, so that they could write as many numbers as possible. Where, though? That’s something they had to look for.
She slowly slid up, keeping an eye on Max. She had to take care of him. She’d let Lyndi die because of a mistake, and she let Yumi out of her sight. She didn’t even fully memorize Michael’s number to confidence. She couldn’t make any more mistakes. She… just couldn’t.
Felicia adjusted herself, then followed the rest of the group.
((Felicia LaChapelle continued in Hoping to Catch a Break))