June 12, 9:00 PM:
"I hate you, you know. When I was graduating Aurora, they never gave us any fancy trip to Disneyland. Only a trip to the Olympic Mountains."
Kaisa, Juhan's sister, said this jokingly while helping his brother prepare his travel pack. Juhan was excited. He doubted he'd be able to sleep. Tomorrow, they were going to Disneyland. Whenever something like this happened, he would always be jittery. He replied as he finished putting his last possession, his Bose headphones, into the bag.
"Why are you so jealous? I'm gonna be stuck in a crowded airplane with the rest of the school, then I'm gonna walk around in a park that reeks of vomit." He then chuckled and started going up the stairs.
"Hey, Juhan, wait! You forgot this." Kaisa brought him his iPod. "Thanks, sis. Good night."
"Night, Juhan."
June 13:
"Juhan, please don't get hurt. I would hate to see you get injured or go home early. Now, do you have your bag?"
"Yes."
"Your water?"
"Yes."
"Your lip balm?"
"Mom, yes! Don't worry, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm trekking off into the wilderness, right?"
"Yes... but still, please be careful. Bye, Juhan!"
He waved back to his mom as he walked over to the bus. The trip to the airport was relatively uneventful. While on the airplane, he spent most of his time looking out the airplane into the clouds. He found it all so amazing. It was his first time flying on an airplane. He was so focused on the clouds that he didn't notice that his iPod had already turned off, or that he was already starting to sleep.
June 14, 9:00 AM:
Juhan Levandi woke up with a start. He was still disorientated, and the drugs had affected him a lot. He was wondering why he was lying on the ground. Also, he was wondering why he couldn't see anything. Maybe if he opened his eyes a little wider... nope. Still nothing.
He struggled to remember what happened after he went to sleep. He only remembered bits and pieces, but they told him enough of the story.
Mr. Davidge being shot in the head.
A girl suffocating her best friend.
Waking up tied to a chair.
"My name's Danya. Welcome to Survival of the Fittest."
Survival of the Fittest was done, wasn't it? Didn't they kill Danya? Everyone was arrested. It was all over the news. It had been four years since the last version. It had to be a prank. Wasn't it? Wasn't it a prank? And those memories must've been some odd dream that he had.
Juhan decided to tell himself this as a form of comfort. He felt around the floor for his bag. Once he found it, he decided to take out all his things. His extra set of clothes was here. Good. Oreos? Here. Lip balm? Still here. Earphones? Here.
Maybe this was a trick. Maybe some of the rowdier kids decided to drop him in a storage closet as a joke. He found it kind of funny, to be honest. He started laughing to himself until he emptied his bag.
Where was his cellphone? His iPod? He needed those things. Did it fall out of his pocket? He had it with him, he knew he put the iPod in his bag. Also, his cellphone. He remembered putting it in his pocket... is it in the left pocket? No. Right? Not there. Back pocket? Still not there.
Maybe someone stole it. God, his mom would freak as soon as Juhan told her he lost his cellphone and iPod. Maybe she was thinking that he disappeared. Maybe his phone had 75 missed calls already.
He felt around the floor again. For all he knew, it could've scattered off when he was emptying his bag. Instead of finding his cellphone or iPod, he found another bag. Out of curiosity, he opened it. The first thing he found was a first-aid kit. Maybe the workers at Disneyland prepared this in case some child hit his head or scraped his knee. The second thing he found was a flashlight. He needed this. He was starting to hyperventilate already and sweat. He hated the dark. It wasn't some irrational fear of 'monsters' or whatever, it's just that the dark made him feel... lost. Alone. He turned on the flashlight and shouted as soon as he turned it on.
His flashlight was aimed at a wax statue of a vampire crawling towards him. So, this wasn't a storage closet. He waved his flashlight around the rest of the room. It looked like it was a hallway. At the far end, he saw some boarded-up windows. In the middle of the hallway was some wooden bridge which seemed ready to break any minute. At the sides of the bridge were spaces filled with tacky decorations such as bats or ghosts.
He was in a closed attraction, wasn't he? Maybe this was the Haunted Mansion attraction everyone talked about. But that attraction was still open, wasn't it? Also, he knew Disney could do better than this. Paper ghosts? Really?
He then aimed the flashlight at the floor. His cellphone wasn't there. Nor was his iPod. So, he lost it. Dang. He was screwed once he arrived home. He was also screwed once he walked out. The workers at Disneyland would probably assume he was trespassing, then they'd kick him out and he'd go home early. And he'd be in more trouble. Great prank this was. Juhan wondered to himself how they managed to sneak him in, anyways. As far as he knew, Disneyland had a ton of security guards making sure you didn't go into these places. He waved it around the floor again. He saw the scattered contents of his bag, plus the green first-aid kit and that second bag.
He examined the bag more carefully. On the side were some big white block letters. He read it out loud.
"B-oh-4-5."
A feeling of dread crept inside him. He kept trying to make excuses for this. Maybe some of these pranksters got a bag and then asked some random guy to print this on the side of the bag. He couldn't be on SOTF. That tragedy was done already. America had forgotten about it.
The third object he got from the duffel bag was a book. The backside was blank. He turned it over.
Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival.
(Juhan Levandi - Start)
He started to chuckle. His chuckles turned into laughs and became more and more intense. Soon, tears were falling down his eyes. After a minute, he was sobbing uncontrollably. He threw the bag as far down the hallway as possible. He started punching the floor and screaming.
Maynard, Hansel, Garrett, Mirabella, Madeleine, Ian. They'd all die. They'd all kill themselves or get shot. Maybe some of them would go insane and become killers. Maybe he would try to kill someone.
But that was impossible, right? Survival of the Fittest didn't exist anymore, it didn't exist anymore, it didn't exist anymore...
But it did. It still existed and Juhan was now about to become one of the less than 200 latest victims of this show.
He continued crying for a few minutes, then composed himself. If he was going to have a chance of surviving, he needed a weapon. All the kids got weapons. He didn't want to use it, but if he ever wanted to leave early...
No, it didn't have to come to that. If his last few days would consist of being on SOTF and trying to survive, so be it. But he didn't want to kill himself. He checked the duffel bag and looked for his weapon. He saw several bottles of water, a few tins of crackers, two loaves of bread, a map, a compass, and one of those party kits they gave out at a toddler's birthday party.
"Where's my weapon," Juhan muttered to himself. He looked in the bag twice. "Maybe it was in the first-aid kit." Nothing. It wasn't in the tins of crackers. He skimmed over Danya's guide just to make sure. The only thing other than the stuff they normally gave out that was in his duffel bag was the party bag...
That was his weapon.
"Fuck."
Despair
Open
"Fuck!"
((B24-FRANCIS ST. LEDGER-START))
Francis' first word on the island didn't exactly signify the most promising of starts. After all, if he couldn't keep it together right at the beginning, when everything was still relatively worry-free, then what hope did he have for the next few days? Still, it was fairly justified, all things considered. He'd woken up in almost complete darkness, eyes still adjusting to the gloom, and instantly slammed his head on a board covering one of the windows as he tried to stand up. That hadn't been when Francis swore, however.
Francis had gritted his teeth, and placed a hand on his head, trying to stifle the yell that had been threatening to come out. He had doubted his parents would be pleased if he woke them up in the middle of the night screaming like a little girl. Although, the dream he had been having was scary as all hell. There had only been vague snippets in Francis' mind as he carefully stood up. He could remember something about driving to the airport, getting on the plane, and then... had he fallen asleep inside his own dream?
Francis had paused then, mildly concerned, then had shook his head, and continued his efforts in remembering the dream. He had woken up in some hall area, without being able to move, with a bunch of armed guards everywhere. Some asshole with a ponytail had waltzed onto the stage, and shot Mr. Davidge. Even though Francis had been sure it had been a dream, that part had still made him wince. But then, another guy had walked on stage, and called himself Danya. That had been the part that made Francis realise it had been a dream. Danya was long dead. Survival of the Fittest was long gone. Everything had been some stupid dream.
Still, it hadn't explained why Francis had been asleep out of his bed, and in his clothes. Francis had frowned then. He had assumed there was a reason, but... he hadn't been able to think of what. He'd taken a few cautious steps to try and find the light switch, in the hopes that it'd be able to help him work out what had happened. Instead, his feet had touched some object lying on the ground. Rather squishy, not solid at all. Bending down, Francis had gotten a closer look at the object. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, if only a little bit, and the thin strips of light from the window had managed to directly hit the side of the object. Francis had seen it was a bag first. The second thing he had seen were the stencilled letters and numbers on the side. "B024". That had been when Francis had begun to panic slightly.
Francis had cautiously opened the bag then. There had been a first aid kit staring up at him. Next to it had been a book. Francis had only just been able to read the cover. "Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival." Francis had stared down at the contents of the bag for a second. Then he'd pinched himself. Then the realisation had dawned on him.
That had been when Francis had shouted.
Now, Francis was pacing next to his bag, fists clenched, resisting the urge to chuck it out the window. This was bullshit. This was such bullshit. This fucking program was still fucking running. Somehow, despite the fact that the fucking leader had been killed, the government still hadn't managed to shut it down completely. And out of all the schools in America, Francis had to go to the one and only school placed on fucking Murder Island.
Francis was about to shout again. Possibly 'fuck', possibly something else. Possibly a combination of two or more swear words. Just as he was about to, however, Francis heard something. A noise from what seemed to be below him. Some sort of banging sound, and a weird sound like somebody sobbing. Maybe that was what it was. Maybe someone else had just woken up.
Francis took a few steps towards the location of the voice, then stopped. He wasn't sure who was down there. He wasn't sure where 'down there' actually was. He didn't know where the exit to this room was either, hell, he didn't even know what building he'd been placed in. Aside from that, the contents of his bag were a mystery, aside from the first aid kit and book. Francis knew he was supposed to get a weapon, right?
For a couple of minutes, Francis simply dithered. His thought-process was still not exactly excellent, the drugs still affecting him slightly. There were pros and cons to each thing he could do; look for the guy, or look through his bag. Eventually, Francis came to a decision.
"H-hey!" Francis tried to shout. To his own surprise, his voice was slightly weak and dry, as if he hadn't spoken for days. Clearing his throat, Francis tried again.
"Hey! Somebody down there? You as pissed at this fuckin' bullshit as me?"
((B24-FRANCIS ST. LEDGER-START))
Francis' first word on the island didn't exactly signify the most promising of starts. After all, if he couldn't keep it together right at the beginning, when everything was still relatively worry-free, then what hope did he have for the next few days? Still, it was fairly justified, all things considered. He'd woken up in almost complete darkness, eyes still adjusting to the gloom, and instantly slammed his head on a board covering one of the windows as he tried to stand up. That hadn't been when Francis swore, however.
Francis had gritted his teeth, and placed a hand on his head, trying to stifle the yell that had been threatening to come out. He had doubted his parents would be pleased if he woke them up in the middle of the night screaming like a little girl. Although, the dream he had been having was scary as all hell. There had only been vague snippets in Francis' mind as he carefully stood up. He could remember something about driving to the airport, getting on the plane, and then... had he fallen asleep inside his own dream?
Francis had paused then, mildly concerned, then had shook his head, and continued his efforts in remembering the dream. He had woken up in some hall area, without being able to move, with a bunch of armed guards everywhere. Some asshole with a ponytail had waltzed onto the stage, and shot Mr. Davidge. Even though Francis had been sure it had been a dream, that part had still made him wince. But then, another guy had walked on stage, and called himself Danya. That had been the part that made Francis realise it had been a dream. Danya was long dead. Survival of the Fittest was long gone. Everything had been some stupid dream.
Still, it hadn't explained why Francis had been asleep out of his bed, and in his clothes. Francis had frowned then. He had assumed there was a reason, but... he hadn't been able to think of what. He'd taken a few cautious steps to try and find the light switch, in the hopes that it'd be able to help him work out what had happened. Instead, his feet had touched some object lying on the ground. Rather squishy, not solid at all. Bending down, Francis had gotten a closer look at the object. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, if only a little bit, and the thin strips of light from the window had managed to directly hit the side of the object. Francis had seen it was a bag first. The second thing he had seen were the stencilled letters and numbers on the side. "B024". That had been when Francis had begun to panic slightly.
Francis had cautiously opened the bag then. There had been a first aid kit staring up at him. Next to it had been a book. Francis had only just been able to read the cover. "Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival." Francis had stared down at the contents of the bag for a second. Then he'd pinched himself. Then the realisation had dawned on him.
That had been when Francis had shouted.
Now, Francis was pacing next to his bag, fists clenched, resisting the urge to chuck it out the window. This was bullshit. This was such bullshit. This fucking program was still fucking running. Somehow, despite the fact that the fucking leader had been killed, the government still hadn't managed to shut it down completely. And out of all the schools in America, Francis had to go to the one and only school placed on fucking Murder Island.
Francis was about to shout again. Possibly 'fuck', possibly something else. Possibly a combination of two or more swear words. Just as he was about to, however, Francis heard something. A noise from what seemed to be below him. Some sort of banging sound, and a weird sound like somebody sobbing. Maybe that was what it was. Maybe someone else had just woken up.
Francis took a few steps towards the location of the voice, then stopped. He wasn't sure who was down there. He wasn't sure where 'down there' actually was. He didn't know where the exit to this room was either, hell, he didn't even know what building he'd been placed in. Aside from that, the contents of his bag were a mystery, aside from the first aid kit and book. Francis knew he was supposed to get a weapon, right?
For a couple of minutes, Francis simply dithered. His thought-process was still not exactly excellent, the drugs still affecting him slightly. There were pros and cons to each thing he could do; look for the guy, or look through his bag. Eventually, Francis came to a decision.
"H-hey!" Francis tried to shout. To his own surprise, his voice was slightly weak and dry, as if he hadn't spoken for days. Clearing his throat, Francis tried again.
"Hey! Somebody down there? You as pissed at this fuckin' bullshit as me?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Juhan was screwed.
He had a party bag as a weapon. He was alone in some abandoned haunted house in the middle of the deadliest island on the world. And he was starting to panic due to all the darkness.
The flashlight only helped a little bit. As far as he was concerned, the world ended as soon as that beam of light ended. He'd already finished freaking out and was putting his belongings back in his bags when he heard someone.
"H-hey!"
So he wasn't alone. Juhan wasn't sure whether to be pleased or scared. He wasn't alone anymore, yes, but for all he knew, this guy could be one of those ki- no, no one would be so crazy as to start killing this early, right? These were his classmates. The guy spoke again.
"Hey! Somebody down there? You as pissed at this fuckin' bullshit as me?"
The voice sounded slightly familiar. Maybe someone he'd run into before? He decided to shout back. Juhan had a feeling that this guy, whoever he was, would be safe.
"Y-yeah! Down here! Are you pl-"
Juhan chided himself. No one would ever say, 'Oh yeah, I'm playing and I'm going to stab you in the chest in around 3 seconds.' He had to think. After 5 seconds, he finally finished his sentence.
"What's your name?!"
He had a party bag as a weapon. He was alone in some abandoned haunted house in the middle of the deadliest island on the world. And he was starting to panic due to all the darkness.
The flashlight only helped a little bit. As far as he was concerned, the world ended as soon as that beam of light ended. He'd already finished freaking out and was putting his belongings back in his bags when he heard someone.
"H-hey!"
So he wasn't alone. Juhan wasn't sure whether to be pleased or scared. He wasn't alone anymore, yes, but for all he knew, this guy could be one of those ki- no, no one would be so crazy as to start killing this early, right? These were his classmates. The guy spoke again.
"Hey! Somebody down there? You as pissed at this fuckin' bullshit as me?"
The voice sounded slightly familiar. Maybe someone he'd run into before? He decided to shout back. Juhan had a feeling that this guy, whoever he was, would be safe.
"Y-yeah! Down here! Are you pl-"
Juhan chided himself. No one would ever say, 'Oh yeah, I'm playing and I'm going to stab you in the chest in around 3 seconds.' He had to think. After 5 seconds, he finally finished his sentence.
"What's your name?!"
A few seconds after announcing himself, Francis heard what was most certainly a voice coming from downstairs. Fairly high-pitched, especially with the tell-tale strain of fear soaked into it, but a guy's voice for sure. Francis was pretty sure he recognised who it was, but not his name exactly. Yet again. Ewan or Johan, or something like that. Nice guy either way, pretty academic, not that that meant shit out here on the island.
Something-Han's first sentence stopped fairly abruptly. Francis' left eyebrow raised a fraction, not that anyone could have seen it, even if they'd been standing a foot in front of his face. Had something happened to the guy? Had he been attacked? Doubtful. There had been no sounds of struggling or anything, no mysterious footsteps from a third party. This place was eerily quiet, after all. Francis was sure he'd have heard a pin drop.
No, more likely it was to do with the word Nice Guy had been about to say. Pl-something. In context with the rest of the sentence, most likely playing. As in, 'Are you a psychopathic murderer about to rip my face off?' It was a fair question in this setting, but also an incredibly obvious one. Any would-be-player could simply lie without skipping a beat.
Juhan. That was the guy's name, right. Weird that Francis could remember that when he was struggling not to lash out at every available object, but not Jake's name weeks ago back in the peace and safety of Seattle.
Juhan had abandoned his first question now, and instead asked a different one. Seemed he hadn't recognised Francis' voice as easily. Fair enough, Francis supposed. The two followed different social circles, and he doubted the other guy had been entirely expecting a new voice to interrupt his solace.
"Francis! The name's Francis! Uh, Juhan, right?" Francis shouted back down the stairs, standing in the exact same location. Without any decent light, he wasn't taking a step further. "You got any clue where exactly we are?" Francis paused, waiting for a reply, before something else came into his mind.
"... Also, there a lightswitch down there or somethin'? Can't see shit where I am."
Something-Han's first sentence stopped fairly abruptly. Francis' left eyebrow raised a fraction, not that anyone could have seen it, even if they'd been standing a foot in front of his face. Had something happened to the guy? Had he been attacked? Doubtful. There had been no sounds of struggling or anything, no mysterious footsteps from a third party. This place was eerily quiet, after all. Francis was sure he'd have heard a pin drop.
No, more likely it was to do with the word Nice Guy had been about to say. Pl-something. In context with the rest of the sentence, most likely playing. As in, 'Are you a psychopathic murderer about to rip my face off?' It was a fair question in this setting, but also an incredibly obvious one. Any would-be-player could simply lie without skipping a beat.
Juhan. That was the guy's name, right. Weird that Francis could remember that when he was struggling not to lash out at every available object, but not Jake's name weeks ago back in the peace and safety of Seattle.
Juhan had abandoned his first question now, and instead asked a different one. Seemed he hadn't recognised Francis' voice as easily. Fair enough, Francis supposed. The two followed different social circles, and he doubted the other guy had been entirely expecting a new voice to interrupt his solace.
"Francis! The name's Francis! Uh, Juhan, right?" Francis shouted back down the stairs, standing in the exact same location. Without any decent light, he wasn't taking a step further. "You got any clue where exactly we are?" Francis paused, waiting for a reply, before something else came into his mind.
"... Also, there a lightswitch down there or somethin'? Can't see shit where I am."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Juhan couldn't believe he'd forgotten his name. Francis! He was pretty sure they shared a class or two throughout most of the year. He felt slightly bad for forgetting his name.
"Sorry for forgetting your name! Yeah, it's Juhan!""
His voice still sounded raw from his episode earlier. He cleared his throat and then hesitated at Francis' first question. He waved the flashlight around once more just to make sure he was where he thought he was. Scary vampire, paper ghosts, paper bats, boarded windows, rickety bridges. Yup, it's a haunted house.
"I think we're in a haunted house! I guess this is in some amusement park!"
Finally, he asked about light switches.
Hmm... he shined his flashlight around again. He walked towards the statue, which despite its tackiness was creeping him out. The dark made everything seem so sinister. He didn't see anything which looked like a switch. He was tempted to go walk past the vampire to find a light switch, but that would only take him farther from Francis. It would be rude to leave him hanging. He shouted, "Wait, haven't found anything yet!" He started walking around more quickly. He was just as anxious to find a light switch as Francis was. He was walking on the bridge when it gave way. "Augh!"
Thankfully, the bridge was only 2 feet above the floor. He went into the spaces on the sides of the bridge, where presumably some workers would come out to grab you, startle you a bit. He climbed back up on the other side. He still wasn't sure where Francis could be. He looked around the other side. He finally replied after 20 seconds.
"I don't think there's a light switch here! I have a flashlight, if that helps."
"Sorry for forgetting your name! Yeah, it's Juhan!""
His voice still sounded raw from his episode earlier. He cleared his throat and then hesitated at Francis' first question. He waved the flashlight around once more just to make sure he was where he thought he was. Scary vampire, paper ghosts, paper bats, boarded windows, rickety bridges. Yup, it's a haunted house.
"I think we're in a haunted house! I guess this is in some amusement park!"
Finally, he asked about light switches.
Hmm... he shined his flashlight around again. He walked towards the statue, which despite its tackiness was creeping him out. The dark made everything seem so sinister. He didn't see anything which looked like a switch. He was tempted to go walk past the vampire to find a light switch, but that would only take him farther from Francis. It would be rude to leave him hanging. He shouted, "Wait, haven't found anything yet!" He started walking around more quickly. He was just as anxious to find a light switch as Francis was. He was walking on the bridge when it gave way. "Augh!"
Thankfully, the bridge was only 2 feet above the floor. He went into the spaces on the sides of the bridge, where presumably some workers would come out to grab you, startle you a bit. He climbed back up on the other side. He still wasn't sure where Francis could be. He looked around the other side. He finally replied after 20 seconds.
"I don't think there's a light switch here! I have a flashlight, if that helps."
Oh, good. Francis had gotten Juhan's name right first time. In the grand scheme of things, considering his current position, it barely registered as a positive at all, but still. Even something like that could have benefits in the long run. It would definitely be for the best to stick on Juhan's good side for now.
What it did not do for Francis was tell him where they were, but fortunately, Juhan seemed to have a pretty good idea on that front. After a brief pause, in which Francis guessed the other boy was checking the place (did he have light downstairs? And if so, why couldn't Francis see it?), Juhan responded with something Francis had not been expecting at all; they were in a haunted house in some amusement park. At least that explained the generally derelict design of the building. Francis looked around at what little he could see. Boarded up windows, precious little light, general wooden quality. Yep, seemed Juhan's interpretation was sound.
"So what, we actually get placed in Disneyland or somethin'?" Francis muttered to himself. For a moment, he almost believed his own joke. Yeah, this had all been a huge joke, Mr. Davidge was still alive, and in a few minutes Francis would get out of this abandoned attraction and join the rest of his classmates. That sure sounded likely. The idea passed in less than a second. It had been nothing more than another coping strategy; a way of deluding himself into believing this whole ordeal wasn't real.
Juhan's voice broke Francis from his wishful thinking, mentioning that he hadn't found anything yet. Francis guessed the guy had gone to look for lightswitches then. If not, something useful. Like a helicopter. They kept those in haunted houses, right? A few seconds later, Juhan's voice rose up the stairs again, this time formed into a short shout of surprise. Francis instantly tensed, eyes darting around and still failing to see anything in the gloom. Had someone actually been hiding out in here all this time? Had something happened to Juhan?
"Dude, Juhan?" Francis shouted, hoping for a reply. A few seconds later he got one, although not a direct reply as such. Francis guessed the other boy hadn't heard him, or something. Well, the absence of light switches was a definite pain, but not an unassailable barrier. They wouldn't be spending all their time in here, after all, and if Juhan had a flashlight, then Francis likely did too.
"Alright, cool. Just gonna check and see if I have a flashlight as well, okay?" Francis shouted back down the stairs. The bag with his apparent designated number on was still the only thing illuminated in the room, so finding it again wasn't going to be an ordeal. Francis reached it, and as he unzipped it and picked out the flashlight which had been just under the first aid kit, he carried on shouting down the stairs to Juhan.
"Hey, Juhan, did somethin' happen down there? Heard you shoutin', is all, and I-Gyaah!"
Francis had flicked the button on the side of the flashlight as soon as it was in his grasp, and the beam was now illuminating the heavily bandaged face of what appeared to be a mannequin of a mummy stepping out of a sarcophagus. Francis took a step back in shock, paused a second, before letting a breath out through gritted teeth.
"Fuckin' mummies, man! Jesus!" Francis shouted to Juhan, partially to show the guy he was okay, and partially to vent his anger. "Terrorists with guns? Sure thing, but I didn't expect fuckin' mummies and shit!"
Whatever. That was over and done with, and provided yet another reason for never coming back here again. Francis now directed the torch beam at his bag again. To his surprise, there were two similar looking objects either side of it. To the right was Francis' own backpack, and stuffed inside was the plastic bag that had stored his parkour clothes. The slight happiness that Francis had felt upon seeing his bag was soon stolen back from him upon his discovery that his phone and iPod had both been removed from the bag.
The item to the left of Francis' new bag was something that looked like a sort of rolled up blanket. Francis paid little attention to it aside from noting that it was there. What he wanted to find now was his weapon. He'd need some way to defend himself, after all, although he dearly hoped the worst would never come to the worst. A quick glance through showed him nothing. Food, map, guide book, first aid kit, but no weapon. A sudden, horrible thought suddenly popped into Francis' head, and he cast a wary glance over the rolled up blanket.
"Uh... Juhan?" Francis said, hoping his normal voice would be enough to carry throughout the house. "D'you, uh... d'you happen to have some sorta rolled up blanket with the rest of your stuff?"
What it did not do for Francis was tell him where they were, but fortunately, Juhan seemed to have a pretty good idea on that front. After a brief pause, in which Francis guessed the other boy was checking the place (did he have light downstairs? And if so, why couldn't Francis see it?), Juhan responded with something Francis had not been expecting at all; they were in a haunted house in some amusement park. At least that explained the generally derelict design of the building. Francis looked around at what little he could see. Boarded up windows, precious little light, general wooden quality. Yep, seemed Juhan's interpretation was sound.
"So what, we actually get placed in Disneyland or somethin'?" Francis muttered to himself. For a moment, he almost believed his own joke. Yeah, this had all been a huge joke, Mr. Davidge was still alive, and in a few minutes Francis would get out of this abandoned attraction and join the rest of his classmates. That sure sounded likely. The idea passed in less than a second. It had been nothing more than another coping strategy; a way of deluding himself into believing this whole ordeal wasn't real.
Juhan's voice broke Francis from his wishful thinking, mentioning that he hadn't found anything yet. Francis guessed the guy had gone to look for lightswitches then. If not, something useful. Like a helicopter. They kept those in haunted houses, right? A few seconds later, Juhan's voice rose up the stairs again, this time formed into a short shout of surprise. Francis instantly tensed, eyes darting around and still failing to see anything in the gloom. Had someone actually been hiding out in here all this time? Had something happened to Juhan?
"Dude, Juhan?" Francis shouted, hoping for a reply. A few seconds later he got one, although not a direct reply as such. Francis guessed the other boy hadn't heard him, or something. Well, the absence of light switches was a definite pain, but not an unassailable barrier. They wouldn't be spending all their time in here, after all, and if Juhan had a flashlight, then Francis likely did too.
"Alright, cool. Just gonna check and see if I have a flashlight as well, okay?" Francis shouted back down the stairs. The bag with his apparent designated number on was still the only thing illuminated in the room, so finding it again wasn't going to be an ordeal. Francis reached it, and as he unzipped it and picked out the flashlight which had been just under the first aid kit, he carried on shouting down the stairs to Juhan.
"Hey, Juhan, did somethin' happen down there? Heard you shoutin', is all, and I-Gyaah!"
Francis had flicked the button on the side of the flashlight as soon as it was in his grasp, and the beam was now illuminating the heavily bandaged face of what appeared to be a mannequin of a mummy stepping out of a sarcophagus. Francis took a step back in shock, paused a second, before letting a breath out through gritted teeth.
"Fuckin' mummies, man! Jesus!" Francis shouted to Juhan, partially to show the guy he was okay, and partially to vent his anger. "Terrorists with guns? Sure thing, but I didn't expect fuckin' mummies and shit!"
Whatever. That was over and done with, and provided yet another reason for never coming back here again. Francis now directed the torch beam at his bag again. To his surprise, there were two similar looking objects either side of it. To the right was Francis' own backpack, and stuffed inside was the plastic bag that had stored his parkour clothes. The slight happiness that Francis had felt upon seeing his bag was soon stolen back from him upon his discovery that his phone and iPod had both been removed from the bag.
The item to the left of Francis' new bag was something that looked like a sort of rolled up blanket. Francis paid little attention to it aside from noting that it was there. What he wanted to find now was his weapon. He'd need some way to defend himself, after all, although he dearly hoped the worst would never come to the worst. A quick glance through showed him nothing. Food, map, guide book, first aid kit, but no weapon. A sudden, horrible thought suddenly popped into Francis' head, and he cast a wary glance over the rolled up blanket.
"Uh... Juhan?" Francis said, hoping his normal voice would be enough to carry throughout the house. "D'you, uh... d'you happen to have some sorta rolled up blanket with the rest of your stuff?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Juhan got startled for a second. He had no idea what was going on with Francis. Was there someone playing already? Were they trying to kill him?
He knew he wasn't ready for conflict. Heck, even if he was one of those jocks, he doubted he could beat someone to death with a bag of candy. He was prepared to start running in the other direction when Francis shouted again.
He started chuckling a bit at their bad luck. Out of all the places they could've been dropped off in the island, they had to choose a haunted house for them. Why couldn't they have chosen some garden or the beach or even the edge of a cliff? Those places would be better to wake up in than this house of horrors.
He also felt some guilt. He wasn't a bad person, was he? He wasn't selfish, he was the nice guy, the kid that liked helping others, being on everyone's good side. He needed to help them. Then why had he started running off?
He decided to forget about it. The past was the past, and Francis was OK. He just had a little scare due to some mummy or whatever. He went back to get his 2 bags. Once he had them both over his shoulders, he went off towards the stairs, where Francis was, he guessed, when he heard another question.
Oh dear.
These terrorists really wanted to screw them over, didn't they? Did they expect them to have a mini-birthday party and then cuddle up next to each other in a blanket? I mean, the blanket could be good for smother- no, he will not end up like those two girls in that video.
The color drained from his face. He really didn't want to say this. He could barely get the words out. "Hey. Um... don't get mad when I say this." He hesitated for 10 more seconds before finally summoning up the courage to speak again. "I don't think so. I think that blanket is your weapon."
He knew he wasn't ready for conflict. Heck, even if he was one of those jocks, he doubted he could beat someone to death with a bag of candy. He was prepared to start running in the other direction when Francis shouted again.
He started chuckling a bit at their bad luck. Out of all the places they could've been dropped off in the island, they had to choose a haunted house for them. Why couldn't they have chosen some garden or the beach or even the edge of a cliff? Those places would be better to wake up in than this house of horrors.
He also felt some guilt. He wasn't a bad person, was he? He wasn't selfish, he was the nice guy, the kid that liked helping others, being on everyone's good side. He needed to help them. Then why had he started running off?
He decided to forget about it. The past was the past, and Francis was OK. He just had a little scare due to some mummy or whatever. He went back to get his 2 bags. Once he had them both over his shoulders, he went off towards the stairs, where Francis was, he guessed, when he heard another question.
Oh dear.
These terrorists really wanted to screw them over, didn't they? Did they expect them to have a mini-birthday party and then cuddle up next to each other in a blanket? I mean, the blanket could be good for smother- no, he will not end up like those two girls in that video.
The color drained from his face. He really didn't want to say this. He could barely get the words out. "Hey. Um... don't get mad when I say this." He hesitated for 10 more seconds before finally summoning up the courage to speak again. "I don't think so. I think that blanket is your weapon."
If there was one thing that Francis had learnt in his 18 years living on this planet, it was that sentences beginning with "Don't get mad when I say this" or "Don't worry, but" were never signs that the situation you were currently in was a good one.
Francis tried to prepare himself for what the rest of Juhan's tentative sentence was going to be. He already had a feeling he knew what it would be, but still. There was a chance, a tiny chance, that things would actually be okay, that everybody had been given a stupid blanket, and that Francis had just misplaced his-
Nope. Juhan had no blanket. Francis' weapon was a length of rolled up fucking blanket. That was it. He had no other weapon with which to defend himself with. Francis honestly tried to hold his anger in, he truly did. But it had been building ever since he'd woken up in total darkness and cracked his head against the window sill. And Francis always had been led by his emotions for the most part.
"You've got to be FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME! FUCK!" Francis strode across to the offending blanket, fists clenched. The flashlight beam picked up another item he'd missed the first time; a folded piece of paper lying on top of the blanket. Hastily unfolding it, and almost ripping it in his frustration, Francis scanned it, hoping it'd contain something of any use. All the paper said, in neat, flowing handwriting, was "Insulated Blanket; Francis St. Ledger, B024". As if he needed any more confirmation that he was supposed to defend himself with... this.
"Is this some kind of fuckin' joke?" Francis was still yelling. He dropped the paper, and replaced it with the blanket. It was fairly large, but still a blanket, so not exactly heavy. Not even taking care to properly aim, he slung the blanket towards the mummy, yelling "Here's what I think of this fuckin' bullshit game and this piece of shit weapon!" To his minor disappointment, there didn't seem to be any damage done to the mummy. It rocked back and forth before finally toppling backwards and leaning against the back of the sarcophagus, but aside from that, nothing. Fucking thing couldn't even hurt a mannequin.
Francis took a couple of deep breaths, before trudging over to collect his blanket, fists still clenched. This wasn't unassailable. He was still pissed, of course, his weapon was still beyond useless. But he was athletic enough and strong enough, and he'd already found somebody who seemed like they'd be willing to ally with him. That was a lucky break. From what little Francis knew of the show, that sort of thing didn't happen for everybody. The first person they met would also be the last person they saw.
A quick bit of shuffling, and Francis had his backpack on his back, the duffel bag in his right hand and the flashlight in his left. He'd swap it for the blanket when they got out of the house. For now, he'd kick the bloody thing downstairs. It would help him vent some more frustration.
After several seconds, with the guidance of the flashlight, Francis reached the top of the stairs. He could see Juhan's flashlight beam from up here. Francis kicked the blanket one more time, and it rolled down the single flight of wooden stairs before resting against what looked like a grandfather clock. Francis himself flew down the stairs two at a time. Finding Juhan was easy, now that there were two light sources. The guy seemed like he was holding out okay. Everything was as fantastic as it could be on Death Island.
"Might have had to get a bit of 'mad' out of me. Sorry 'bout that. You alright?"
Francis tried to prepare himself for what the rest of Juhan's tentative sentence was going to be. He already had a feeling he knew what it would be, but still. There was a chance, a tiny chance, that things would actually be okay, that everybody had been given a stupid blanket, and that Francis had just misplaced his-
Nope. Juhan had no blanket. Francis' weapon was a length of rolled up fucking blanket. That was it. He had no other weapon with which to defend himself with. Francis honestly tried to hold his anger in, he truly did. But it had been building ever since he'd woken up in total darkness and cracked his head against the window sill. And Francis always had been led by his emotions for the most part.
"You've got to be FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME! FUCK!" Francis strode across to the offending blanket, fists clenched. The flashlight beam picked up another item he'd missed the first time; a folded piece of paper lying on top of the blanket. Hastily unfolding it, and almost ripping it in his frustration, Francis scanned it, hoping it'd contain something of any use. All the paper said, in neat, flowing handwriting, was "Insulated Blanket; Francis St. Ledger, B024". As if he needed any more confirmation that he was supposed to defend himself with... this.
"Is this some kind of fuckin' joke?" Francis was still yelling. He dropped the paper, and replaced it with the blanket. It was fairly large, but still a blanket, so not exactly heavy. Not even taking care to properly aim, he slung the blanket towards the mummy, yelling "Here's what I think of this fuckin' bullshit game and this piece of shit weapon!" To his minor disappointment, there didn't seem to be any damage done to the mummy. It rocked back and forth before finally toppling backwards and leaning against the back of the sarcophagus, but aside from that, nothing. Fucking thing couldn't even hurt a mannequin.
Francis took a couple of deep breaths, before trudging over to collect his blanket, fists still clenched. This wasn't unassailable. He was still pissed, of course, his weapon was still beyond useless. But he was athletic enough and strong enough, and he'd already found somebody who seemed like they'd be willing to ally with him. That was a lucky break. From what little Francis knew of the show, that sort of thing didn't happen for everybody. The first person they met would also be the last person they saw.
A quick bit of shuffling, and Francis had his backpack on his back, the duffel bag in his right hand and the flashlight in his left. He'd swap it for the blanket when they got out of the house. For now, he'd kick the bloody thing downstairs. It would help him vent some more frustration.
After several seconds, with the guidance of the flashlight, Francis reached the top of the stairs. He could see Juhan's flashlight beam from up here. Francis kicked the blanket one more time, and it rolled down the single flight of wooden stairs before resting against what looked like a grandfather clock. Francis himself flew down the stairs two at a time. Finding Juhan was easy, now that there were two light sources. The guy seemed like he was holding out okay. Everything was as fantastic as it could be on Death Island.
"Might have had to get a bit of 'mad' out of me. Sorry 'bout that. You alright?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
He shouldn't have said that.
Juhan thought it best if he took a few steps back- no, no, no, that's more than a few steps ba-
"Aah!"
For the second time in a row, he fell onto the floor near the bridge. He decided to lay there for a few seconds just to have some time to recuperate, possibly get mad at himself for being so clumsy, before getting up again. The back of his head was still throbbing with pain, but it didn't seem like it was bleeding. It was probably a bad bruise.
Meanwhile, Francis finally stopped freaking out. Phew. Juhan was slightly confused when a blanket came rolling down the stair, but it was probably Francis taking out some rage on his 'weapon'. He finally saw Francis' face when he went down the stairs. He didn't really look worse for the wear. His face was slightly red from all the yelling and anger, but other than that, he looked fine. Juhan, on the other hand, still looked like a wreck. Along with the back of his head, his knuckles were still in pain from punching the floor. His eyes were puffy and there were even some streaks of tears running down his cheek. Taking note of this, he rubbed his eyes.
"Might have had to get a bit of 'mad' out of me. Sorry 'bout that. You alright?"
That was an understatement. At least he took out his rage on what sounded like another mannequin and some blanket.
"It's OK, it's OK, I understand. Uh.. me? Kinda." He was still rubbing the back of his head, trying to relieve the pain.
Juhan thought it best if he took a few steps back- no, no, no, that's more than a few steps ba-
"Aah!"
For the second time in a row, he fell onto the floor near the bridge. He decided to lay there for a few seconds just to have some time to recuperate, possibly get mad at himself for being so clumsy, before getting up again. The back of his head was still throbbing with pain, but it didn't seem like it was bleeding. It was probably a bad bruise.
Meanwhile, Francis finally stopped freaking out. Phew. Juhan was slightly confused when a blanket came rolling down the stair, but it was probably Francis taking out some rage on his 'weapon'. He finally saw Francis' face when he went down the stairs. He didn't really look worse for the wear. His face was slightly red from all the yelling and anger, but other than that, he looked fine. Juhan, on the other hand, still looked like a wreck. Along with the back of his head, his knuckles were still in pain from punching the floor. His eyes were puffy and there were even some streaks of tears running down his cheek. Taking note of this, he rubbed his eyes.
"Might have had to get a bit of 'mad' out of me. Sorry 'bout that. You alright?"
That was an understatement. At least he took out his rage on what sounded like another mannequin and some blanket.
"It's OK, it's OK, I understand. Uh.. me? Kinda." He was still rubbing the back of his head, trying to relieve the pain.
Francis nodded at Juhan. Guy didn't seem to be bluffing, or acting like he was okay in order to appear tough or some other bullshit. Sure, the guy had the telltale signs of someone who'd recently bawled their eyes out, but hey, Francis wasn't going to blame anyone for crying right now. There were different ways of dealing with the situation; Juhan's was crying, Francis' was getting angry.
Juhan was rubbing his head a little, though, which could have been a problem. Unless he had a massive, bloody cut there, though, Francis doubted it would be too much of a problem. Especially seeing as Juhan was just rubbing it, not lying on the floor in a pool of-
Francis shuddered involuntarily. Okay, mental pictures like that were not a good choice. It reminded him too much of Mr Davidge. Reminded him too much of what could honestly happen here on the island.
"Alright, cool." Francis said, voice a little more sombre than he meant it to be. "I doubt the terrorists left an emergency department open out here."
Francis looked around at his surroundings. There was a little more light down here, it seemed, but without their flashlights, the exit would impossible to find. Francis looked back at Juhan.
"You know the way out, dude? Or if we're close to it, at least? Don't exactly wanna break these fuckin' barricades down, y'know?"
Juhan was rubbing his head a little, though, which could have been a problem. Unless he had a massive, bloody cut there, though, Francis doubted it would be too much of a problem. Especially seeing as Juhan was just rubbing it, not lying on the floor in a pool of-
Francis shuddered involuntarily. Okay, mental pictures like that were not a good choice. It reminded him too much of Mr Davidge. Reminded him too much of what could honestly happen here on the island.
"Alright, cool." Francis said, voice a little more sombre than he meant it to be. "I doubt the terrorists left an emergency department open out here."
Francis looked around at his surroundings. There was a little more light down here, it seemed, but without their flashlights, the exit would impossible to find. Francis looked back at Juhan.
"You know the way out, dude? Or if we're close to it, at least? Don't exactly wanna break these fuckin' barricades down, y'know?"
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Juhan simply laughed at Francis' quip. It was rather morbid and not something he'd normally laugh at, but he needed an excuse to do so. Everything seemed so... dark. He wanted something to brighten up his day, even for a short while.
Now, he was asking about the exit. He had no idea, really. The haunted house seemed to stretch on for a long distance, something Juhan didn't like. He was also becoming desperate for an exit.
"Way out? Not sure, actually. We could go across that bridge orrr we could try the stairs. I have no idea. I say we try going across the bridge. It wouldn't really make sense for the exit to be on the second floor. Be careful, by the way. Just step on the floor. The bridge is kinda weak and I've banged my head against the floor there twice." He started rubbing his head again. It hurt just thinking about it.
Now, he was asking about the exit. He had no idea, really. The haunted house seemed to stretch on for a long distance, something Juhan didn't like. He was also becoming desperate for an exit.
"Way out? Not sure, actually. We could go across that bridge orrr we could try the stairs. I have no idea. I say we try going across the bridge. It wouldn't really make sense for the exit to be on the second floor. Be careful, by the way. Just step on the floor. The bridge is kinda weak and I've banged my head against the floor there twice." He started rubbing his head again. It hurt just thinking about it.
(B039 - Yoshikawa, Takeshi - START)
The first thing Takeshi noticed upon awakening was that it was very dark. The second thing he noticed was that he seemed to be lying on his back inside of some sort of elongated box. He heard muffled voices, though the only thing he could tell about them was that they were outside his box. As he continue to lie he picked up a few louder words, mostly profanities being shouted in angry or panicked voices. He remained in the stillness for several moments as he considered how he came to be inside the box.
I was on the plane. I was reading. Then I was very tired...
The wake-up in the "classroom" flashed back into his mind. He didn't even attempt to tell himself that it wasn't happening. The sooner he accepted the reality of it, the sooner he could adjust. Adapt. Deal with it.
No point staying in this box. Time to see what's going on outside.
Takeshi pushed up on the lid and found that it gave way rather easily, swinging down to one side with a soft clunk. It was still dark. He raised himself up slowly, but stopped when he felt something in his lap. A quick feel revealed that it was a duffel bag. He found the zipper and opened it. As he felt around he ventured guesses at what things might be.
Water bottle, candy bar, flashlight...flashlight!
Takeshi pulled the flashlight out, turned it on, and started to look over the contents of the bag. He noticed food and water, a medkit, everything he needed to survive for a while on the island. He even found a magnesium firestarter, which seemed to be his assigned weapon. That worked well enough for him. The ability to start fires would come in handy.
Now where is my bag? I'll need my clothes at least. Doubt they'll have left me much useful in there.
He shone the flashlight around the floor and noticed a second bag that appeared to be his own. He could venture a guess as to why he woke up with their bag on him and his bag outside, but he didn't care to think much about it. It wasn't important anyway. He zipped up the bag on his lap and extricated himself from the box. He picked up his own bag and set to examining it. His clothes and the manga book he'd been reading on the plane were there. They left his sweets alone, minus a carton of pocky. His Death Note notebook was gone, as were any writing utensils, and his phone, of course. Takeshi had been expecting that. A few comforts and conveniences. Nothing that he could use to disrupt "the game" in any way. Zipping his bag back up, Takeshi finally began to look around the room. There seemed to be several cobwebs and what appeared to be rubber bats placed in several places around the room. He looked back at the box he awoke in, which he then recognized as a casket.
A haunted house? Just where did we get placed?
More voices. They seemed calm enough, given the situation. He hoped that meant they were friendly.
"Hello?"
The first thing Takeshi noticed upon awakening was that it was very dark. The second thing he noticed was that he seemed to be lying on his back inside of some sort of elongated box. He heard muffled voices, though the only thing he could tell about them was that they were outside his box. As he continue to lie he picked up a few louder words, mostly profanities being shouted in angry or panicked voices. He remained in the stillness for several moments as he considered how he came to be inside the box.
I was on the plane. I was reading. Then I was very tired...
The wake-up in the "classroom" flashed back into his mind. He didn't even attempt to tell himself that it wasn't happening. The sooner he accepted the reality of it, the sooner he could adjust. Adapt. Deal with it.
No point staying in this box. Time to see what's going on outside.
Takeshi pushed up on the lid and found that it gave way rather easily, swinging down to one side with a soft clunk. It was still dark. He raised himself up slowly, but stopped when he felt something in his lap. A quick feel revealed that it was a duffel bag. He found the zipper and opened it. As he felt around he ventured guesses at what things might be.
Water bottle, candy bar, flashlight...flashlight!
Takeshi pulled the flashlight out, turned it on, and started to look over the contents of the bag. He noticed food and water, a medkit, everything he needed to survive for a while on the island. He even found a magnesium firestarter, which seemed to be his assigned weapon. That worked well enough for him. The ability to start fires would come in handy.
Now where is my bag? I'll need my clothes at least. Doubt they'll have left me much useful in there.
He shone the flashlight around the floor and noticed a second bag that appeared to be his own. He could venture a guess as to why he woke up with their bag on him and his bag outside, but he didn't care to think much about it. It wasn't important anyway. He zipped up the bag on his lap and extricated himself from the box. He picked up his own bag and set to examining it. His clothes and the manga book he'd been reading on the plane were there. They left his sweets alone, minus a carton of pocky. His Death Note notebook was gone, as were any writing utensils, and his phone, of course. Takeshi had been expecting that. A few comforts and conveniences. Nothing that he could use to disrupt "the game" in any way. Zipping his bag back up, Takeshi finally began to look around the room. There seemed to be several cobwebs and what appeared to be rubber bats placed in several places around the room. He looked back at the box he awoke in, which he then recognized as a casket.
A haunted house? Just where did we get placed?
More voices. They seemed calm enough, given the situation. He hoped that meant they were friendly.
"Hello?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Well, that was just great. They were both lost inside a dark, somewhat eerie haunted house, with the exit absolutely nowhere in sight. Francis was off to a fantastic start on the island of doom. He had to restrain himself from lashing out at the blanket again. Getting pissed again wouldn't help them find their way out in the slightest.
Because seriously, now that he had his situation and his surrounded sussed out, Francis wanted out of this place more than ever. It wasn't even the haunted house itself, really, no matter what his earlier freak out might have suggested. It was what might have been hidden within that scared him. Again, not the mummies or vampires. Francis knew, deep down inside, that there would be people who took that fucker Danya's advice to heart. There would be people, weak, strong, smart, dumb, whoever, that would start killing for whatever reason. And they could choose to do so at anytime, including right now, and any one of his classmates could be hiding out in the dark, waiting...
Goddamnit, those thoughts needed to go fuck themselves. It wasn't doing anything good for Francis' mental state or his paranoia. Again, it was the fucking haunted house. Getting out of here was even more of a priority now.
"Across the bridge it is, unless you wanna jump off the roof or somethin'" Francis muttered. "Also, weakness of bridge noted. C'mon." At least that explained how Juhan had hurt himself. Poor guy. First few hours on the island, and it was already trying to kill him. At least now there'd be safety in numbers now.
Francis kicked his blanket into the bridge room and onto the floor rather than the bridge itself. He followed it, using his flashlight beam to scan every inch of the room for an exit. He'd only just managed to pass the bridge, and was in the doorframe leading to another room, when a third voice made itself heard. Francis froze where he was. He didn't recognise the voice, seeing as all they'd said was "Hello". Goddamnit. Images of Miles or Adonis hiding in the shadows with a huge-ass knife floated into his head uninvited.
"Hey!" Francis shouted back. "Who is that? I ain't taking another step until I get your name and weapon."
You could never be too careful. Especially not on this island.
Because seriously, now that he had his situation and his surrounded sussed out, Francis wanted out of this place more than ever. It wasn't even the haunted house itself, really, no matter what his earlier freak out might have suggested. It was what might have been hidden within that scared him. Again, not the mummies or vampires. Francis knew, deep down inside, that there would be people who took that fucker Danya's advice to heart. There would be people, weak, strong, smart, dumb, whoever, that would start killing for whatever reason. And they could choose to do so at anytime, including right now, and any one of his classmates could be hiding out in the dark, waiting...
Goddamnit, those thoughts needed to go fuck themselves. It wasn't doing anything good for Francis' mental state or his paranoia. Again, it was the fucking haunted house. Getting out of here was even more of a priority now.
"Across the bridge it is, unless you wanna jump off the roof or somethin'" Francis muttered. "Also, weakness of bridge noted. C'mon." At least that explained how Juhan had hurt himself. Poor guy. First few hours on the island, and it was already trying to kill him. At least now there'd be safety in numbers now.
Francis kicked his blanket into the bridge room and onto the floor rather than the bridge itself. He followed it, using his flashlight beam to scan every inch of the room for an exit. He'd only just managed to pass the bridge, and was in the doorframe leading to another room, when a third voice made itself heard. Francis froze where he was. He didn't recognise the voice, seeing as all they'd said was "Hello". Goddamnit. Images of Miles or Adonis hiding in the shadows with a huge-ass knife floated into his head uninvited.
"Hey!" Francis shouted back. "Who is that? I ain't taking another step until I get your name and weapon."
You could never be too careful. Especially not on this island.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Juhan was just about to follow him when he saw a beam of light at the far end of the hallway. He stopped in his tracks. He squinted a little just to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Yup, there was a beam of light there.
He was about to mention this to Francis when he heard a voice. His eyes dilated even though all the boy said was a simple 'Hello'. Every single possibility came rushing through Juhan's head, both good and bad. He imagined the boy immediately coming out and saying, 'Hey, can we be allies?' He also imagined the boy coming out and literally decapitating Fran-
He had to stop. Thoughts like that wouldn't help. For now, however, he couldn't do anything. Maybe Francis could knock the boy out or something if he attacked, but Juhan doubted he'd be able to do any damage with some candy. He decided to stay behind Francis and let him take charge.
He was about to mention this to Francis when he heard a voice. His eyes dilated even though all the boy said was a simple 'Hello'. Every single possibility came rushing through Juhan's head, both good and bad. He imagined the boy immediately coming out and saying, 'Hey, can we be allies?' He also imagined the boy coming out and literally decapitating Fran-
He had to stop. Thoughts like that wouldn't help. For now, however, he couldn't do anything. Maybe Francis could knock the boy out or something if he attacked, but Juhan doubted he'd be able to do any damage with some candy. He decided to stay behind Francis and let him take charge.
A voice answered back. Less calm. He turned his light toward the voices. He was too far away to see who they were with only his flashlight, but he could tell that there were indeed two people there.
"Yoshikawa. They gave me a magnesium firestarter. What about you and your friend?"
He wasn't sure what he'd do if they had anything that could be used as a weapon. Though the fact that there were two and they weren't killing one another was a good sign. Either they were friendly, or neither one of them had anything dangerous on hand.
Violence is not in my nature. Violence is born from disorder. Violence is sickness. I am whole. The loss of the other is my loss too.
Takeshi continued to attempt to center himself and to remind himself of his principles. Hope for escape would not save him. A cunning plan would not save him. Surviving at all would not save him. Only a focused mind and an unwillingness to yield the principles he held most sacred would save him. He could not lose himself here. He must live and die on his own terms, the game be damned.
"Yoshikawa. They gave me a magnesium firestarter. What about you and your friend?"
He wasn't sure what he'd do if they had anything that could be used as a weapon. Though the fact that there were two and they weren't killing one another was a good sign. Either they were friendly, or neither one of them had anything dangerous on hand.
Violence is not in my nature. Violence is born from disorder. Violence is sickness. I am whole. The loss of the other is my loss too.
Takeshi continued to attempt to center himself and to remind himself of his principles. Hope for escape would not save him. A cunning plan would not save him. Surviving at all would not save him. Only a focused mind and an unwillingness to yield the principles he held most sacred would save him. He could not lose himself here. He must live and die on his own terms, the game be damned.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.