"Look Josh, I'm dead serious, Wanted sucked!"
"C'mon man! How? What other movie's can you name which has Angelina Jolie shooting shit up whilst driving a sweetass-looking car!"
"Yeah, but... Seriously? A LOOM? Thats how they choose who to kill? Not for money or anything, oh no... By listening to a machine that weaves cloth? Thats the silliest thing i've ever heard of!"
"Yeah, that... WAS kinda stupid... But at least you get to see Angelina Jolie partially naked, right?"
"Yeah, guess you're right..."
"Hehe, yeah...... Hey, uh, Marty? You with me man?"
"HELLOOO! Earth to Marty?"
"Marty?"
"Huh... Thats odd, Now i'm feelin' tried as well..."
"Guess I could rest my eyes for a LITTLE while..."
......
B10: Joshua Krakowski start
Personally, Joshua couldn't of wished for a better morning to wake up to. The sun was shining, the sky was empty of rain-clouds, and he could of almost sworn he could hear birds singing. Yup, from the looks of things today was going to be an ESPECIALLY awesome day...
Only... Joshua couldn't quite figure out why he was sleeping outside. Had he gotten drunk and slept in the garden? Its not like that'd be the first time that has happened... Still, for some reason his neck itched like hell. He couldn't quite figure out why... And as he reached over to scratch it, he suddenly fell flat on his face onto the dirt.
If that didn't wake him up, nothing would. The living anachronism quickly got up, dusting himself down as he took note of his surroundings. It didn't take long until he realised something was amiss.
For one, why was he sleeping on a bench? Surely even if he was drunk he'd look for somewhere more comfy to sleep?
Secondly, where the hell was he anyway? From the looks of things, he'd ended up on top of some mountain somewhere. He could tell from the fact that barely a few feet away from him lay this HUGE drop off the side of the side of the aforementioned mountain, which caused Joshua to stumble back over the bench towards safety.
Then... It all came back. The bus, the auditorium, the gunfire, the video clips... It all suddenly made sense.
... Oh crap. This isn't good...
That was the understatement of the century, and Joshua knew it. In all his wild imaginings, Joshua Krakowski never dreamed that he'd ever actually be in the last place he ever wanted to wake up in... Survival of the Fittest.
Despite this, all he did next was sit down on the bench and observe the view.
He didn't panic... Or get angry... or upset, or anything really. He just sat.
Not that he wasn't concerned about the fact that he was in the middle of the bloodiest games ever known. Far from it... Its just that he always had a knack for keeping his cool in even the most stressful of situations. At this as it turned out wouldn't be an exception.
Although truth be told, that was partially because it hadn't really hit Joshua yet just how serious his situation was.
"Well... Bummer..." He said, still trying to figure out what he should do next. One thing for sure, I DEFINITELY ain't playing along with this... Killing people ain't really my style, you know?
"Should I, like, check my weapon or something? I mean... Damn..."
He brushed back his hair, pausing for a few seconds before grabbing his bag and checking the contents. Sure enough, everything whatshisname had said was in here was there. Including his weapon, namely an odd looking metal-stick thingy which he quickly took out to examine.
"The heck is this? Some kinda metal baton thingy...... I like it!" He said, giving the weapon a couple of practice swings. It was fairly light, and from the looks of things fairly hard. Luckily, though, it didn't look as though it could actually be fatal. Well thats a relief... Wouldn't want accidentally kill anyone now...
... Now thats outta the way, what next? I should probably look for a way out of here... Its a big island, right? So naturally there ought to be a boat or something... Wait, oh yeah. The collars... Damn... Maybe theres a way to get 'em off?
As he sat there, stroking his chin as he thought up half-baked ideas for how he could escape or fight the system, a thought came up.
Holy crap, MARTY! Where is he?!? Oh man, theres no way he'll last a second out there alone! I've gotta do something... ANYTHING!
With that in mind, he stood up on the bench and started calling out Marty's name at the top of his lungs.
"YO! MAAARTY!"
It wasn't a bright idea in the slightest, anybody could tell you that. But that didn't stop Joshua in the slightest as he loudly announced his location for anyone who may have been within earshot.
Dude, how come I feel like i'm not in Kansas anymore?
B10 Start
Dude, how come I feel like i'm not in Kansas anymore?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
(B032-Remi Pierce start)
Remi woke up in pain as he looked around, he was on a mountain ledge. His duffel bag and crutch were nowhere to found, probaly fallen off the ledge when he woke up as Remi cursed his luck. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere and his leg and arm were useless.
He remembered where he was then, Survival of the Fittest, the most controversial thing on tv. He was now part of it. Remi painfully tried to move so he could reach his duffel bag, opening it with his free hand as he gritted his teeth and pulled out something metal. A knife of some sort, it reminded him of the kind he saw in some samurai play.
He lifted it up to his collar, he knew he was told not to mess with them, but if he was going to survive and win, he would need the damn thing off, let him travel through the danger zones. Remi paused, thinking this over. He was crippled, his weapon need close-range, so the open room would help him a lot, allow him to sneak up on people so he could finish this. He nodded as he moved the knife toward the collar. He pryed at it as a mechanism in the collar activated, activating the explosives.
Remi's body fell back down, his neck destroyed by the collar, his head lying to the side as blood leaked out of the large wound
STUDENT B32 - REMI PIERCE- DECEASED
Remi woke up in pain as he looked around, he was on a mountain ledge. His duffel bag and crutch were nowhere to found, probaly fallen off the ledge when he woke up as Remi cursed his luck. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere and his leg and arm were useless.
He remembered where he was then, Survival of the Fittest, the most controversial thing on tv. He was now part of it. Remi painfully tried to move so he could reach his duffel bag, opening it with his free hand as he gritted his teeth and pulled out something metal. A knife of some sort, it reminded him of the kind he saw in some samurai play.
He lifted it up to his collar, he knew he was told not to mess with them, but if he was going to survive and win, he would need the damn thing off, let him travel through the danger zones. Remi paused, thinking this over. He was crippled, his weapon need close-range, so the open room would help him a lot, allow him to sneak up on people so he could finish this. He nodded as he moved the knife toward the collar. He pryed at it as a mechanism in the collar activated, activating the explosives.
Remi's body fell back down, his neck destroyed by the collar, his head lying to the side as blood leaked out of the large wound
STUDENT B32 - REMI PIERCE- DECEASED
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Enter Everett Taylor))
It was the worst day of Everett's life. The absolute worse. That was saying something, too. Still, nothing, no sleepless nights of studying, no embarrassing yearly physical, no bout of depressive self-loathing, could ever even begin to approximate this. He remembered it all. He'd passed out on the bus. Thought he was just tired. Thought it was just too hot. Then, suddenly, he was in a room. Tied to a chair. Watching.
He watched, as the video played. He remembered the name John Rizzolo. He remembered the blood. The blood from the teachers. From Mrs. Bishop, who was always late for class. English class. English class seemed so far away now. Everything did. Everett was sweating, his nice pants covered in dirt, his shirt plastered to his chest. It clung in a way that showed off, very clearly, his unimpressive physique.
He almost wanted to give up and die. He was lying by a path on a mountain. All around, there was fascinating scenery. He'd never been somewhere quite so beautiful. It would be a fine place to die. The question was, if he was going to do it, then how? He rolled onto his side with a groan. There was the daypack. Just like they'd said. He dug into it. The zipper was a bit tricky, but relented soon enough. Inside, he couldn't see anything except yellow rubber. Yellow rubber? What on earth could he have been assigned? He dragged it out, watching the duffel bag collapse in on itself. Before, it had been stuffed full. Whatever it was, it was big.
It was a raft. An inflatable raft. Did that mean he could escape? Could... blow it full of air and paddle away or something? Wait, no. There was a cut in the side of the raft, clearly put there by intent. A nice, foot long slash. His weapon was a busted raft. He was going to die.
At least it could be over quickly. He could shove his head into it, and smother himself. That was it. Suffocate. Of course, wouldn't that be painful? He thought of the few times he'd tried to work out, that awful burning and shortness of breath. No. That would be a terrible way to die. What, then? What could he do?
Then he heard the shout. Someone from higher up was calling. Calling a friend. Maybe... maybe people would team up. Yes, team up. Make a concerted effort, like the teachers had done. Find some way out. Maybe they weren't all killing. Maybe he could escape!
No. Everett wasn't right for escaping. He looked up the mountain, and realized he wasn't even right for hiking. Still, he pulled himself up, leaving the raft lying abandoned, and hoisted his packs. Then, he began to shamble uphill. In two minutes, he was breathing heavily, panting almost. All the stuff in his packs was heavy. Too heavy. Still, he had to keep going. Had to...
Then he was there. And there was the boy. Josh? Was that his name? He'd seen him in school, maybe shared a class. He had a second of fear, of doubt, wondering if Josh would kill him. Then he realized he couldn't stop him, and so simply wheezed out, "Hi."
It was the worst day of Everett's life. The absolute worse. That was saying something, too. Still, nothing, no sleepless nights of studying, no embarrassing yearly physical, no bout of depressive self-loathing, could ever even begin to approximate this. He remembered it all. He'd passed out on the bus. Thought he was just tired. Thought it was just too hot. Then, suddenly, he was in a room. Tied to a chair. Watching.
He watched, as the video played. He remembered the name John Rizzolo. He remembered the blood. The blood from the teachers. From Mrs. Bishop, who was always late for class. English class. English class seemed so far away now. Everything did. Everett was sweating, his nice pants covered in dirt, his shirt plastered to his chest. It clung in a way that showed off, very clearly, his unimpressive physique.
He almost wanted to give up and die. He was lying by a path on a mountain. All around, there was fascinating scenery. He'd never been somewhere quite so beautiful. It would be a fine place to die. The question was, if he was going to do it, then how? He rolled onto his side with a groan. There was the daypack. Just like they'd said. He dug into it. The zipper was a bit tricky, but relented soon enough. Inside, he couldn't see anything except yellow rubber. Yellow rubber? What on earth could he have been assigned? He dragged it out, watching the duffel bag collapse in on itself. Before, it had been stuffed full. Whatever it was, it was big.
It was a raft. An inflatable raft. Did that mean he could escape? Could... blow it full of air and paddle away or something? Wait, no. There was a cut in the side of the raft, clearly put there by intent. A nice, foot long slash. His weapon was a busted raft. He was going to die.
At least it could be over quickly. He could shove his head into it, and smother himself. That was it. Suffocate. Of course, wouldn't that be painful? He thought of the few times he'd tried to work out, that awful burning and shortness of breath. No. That would be a terrible way to die. What, then? What could he do?
Then he heard the shout. Someone from higher up was calling. Calling a friend. Maybe... maybe people would team up. Yes, team up. Make a concerted effort, like the teachers had done. Find some way out. Maybe they weren't all killing. Maybe he could escape!
No. Everett wasn't right for escaping. He looked up the mountain, and realized he wasn't even right for hiking. Still, he pulled himself up, leaving the raft lying abandoned, and hoisted his packs. Then, he began to shamble uphill. In two minutes, he was breathing heavily, panting almost. All the stuff in his packs was heavy. Too heavy. Still, he had to keep going. Had to...
Then he was there. And there was the boy. Josh? Was that his name? He'd seen him in school, maybe shared a class. He had a second of fear, of doubt, wondering if Josh would kill him. Then he realized he couldn't stop him, and so simply wheezed out, "Hi."
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JoystickHero†
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:34 am
"Aw, windows are stuck!" Al pulled at the rim of the bus' window with both hands, putting all of his weight into trying to get it open. "Hnnnnnnnn-gwah!" The boy (no one who'd met Albert Lions would ever call him a 'man') slipped, as his grip suddenly faltered, and he spilled out of his seat into the gap between. "Aw... I wanted to..." All the strength was suddenly draining from him. He felt like he was made of noodles. "Stick my... head out the..."
~~~
Voices....
Gunshots...
Blood...
Murder...
Drowsiness...
A dream...
It has to be...
Just a bad dream...
~~~
B-151 - Albert Lions - Start
Just a... a bad dream... Turbulent thoughts, memories, nightmares, all swam in Albert's head as he began to regain consciousness. The process, which normally would have taken a couple minutes, was hastened by the sound of an explosion from some distance away. "Window!" Albert shot awake, sitting up and looking around. What he was greeted with took his breath away. Blue skies, clean air, a beautiful mountain view, like nothing he'd ever seen before. "Woah. This is pretty awesome!" Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, the boy took another look at his surroundings, as he pulled himself to his feet. How did I - Hey look, it's Dougal - get here, though? A moment of thought.
Bad thoughts. Bad. Ones that made Al feel sick. He shook them out of his head. A nightmare. Shouldn't have watched that movie the night before. Not that he managed to get through much of it before he had to change the channel. "Oh, right, I remember! I fell asleep on the bus! Which means... this must be the camp!" Proud of himself for puzzling out the problem, he tried not to think too hard about the other possibility. After all, it was just a nightmare. That never really happened. It's just a show.
"Must've dragged me out here as a joke." Albert's mind reassured him, as the boy walked over to where Dougal was lying nearby. "Hey, Doug, wake up, we're at the camp!" He leaned down, shaking his friend, refusing to leave unti- ooh, what was that over there? Momentarily forgetting his buddy, Al spotted something bright yellow against the green and brown of the surroundings. He scampered (there was no other word for it) over to where the item was, and pulled it up. "A raft! ...huh, looks like it's broken. But why just throw it out?" Al shrugged, and rolled up his new possession, carrying it with him over to where Dougal was hopefully starting to wake up. "Doug! We're here and I found a raft! Do you think anyone will mind if I keep it?"
~~~
Voices....
Gunshots...
Blood...
Murder...
Drowsiness...
A dream...
It has to be...
Just a bad dream...
~~~
B-151 - Albert Lions - Start
Just a... a bad dream... Turbulent thoughts, memories, nightmares, all swam in Albert's head as he began to regain consciousness. The process, which normally would have taken a couple minutes, was hastened by the sound of an explosion from some distance away. "Window!" Albert shot awake, sitting up and looking around. What he was greeted with took his breath away. Blue skies, clean air, a beautiful mountain view, like nothing he'd ever seen before. "Woah. This is pretty awesome!" Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, the boy took another look at his surroundings, as he pulled himself to his feet. How did I - Hey look, it's Dougal - get here, though? A moment of thought.
Bad thoughts. Bad. Ones that made Al feel sick. He shook them out of his head. A nightmare. Shouldn't have watched that movie the night before. Not that he managed to get through much of it before he had to change the channel. "Oh, right, I remember! I fell asleep on the bus! Which means... this must be the camp!" Proud of himself for puzzling out the problem, he tried not to think too hard about the other possibility. After all, it was just a nightmare. That never really happened. It's just a show.
"Must've dragged me out here as a joke." Albert's mind reassured him, as the boy walked over to where Dougal was lying nearby. "Hey, Doug, wake up, we're at the camp!" He leaned down, shaking his friend, refusing to leave unti- ooh, what was that over there? Momentarily forgetting his buddy, Al spotted something bright yellow against the green and brown of the surroundings. He scampered (there was no other word for it) over to where the item was, and pulled it up. "A raft! ...huh, looks like it's broken. But why just throw it out?" Al shrugged, and rolled up his new possession, carrying it with him over to where Dougal was hopefully starting to wake up. "Doug! We're here and I found a raft! Do you think anyone will mind if I keep it?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JoystickHero. 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.
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
((B143 - Augustus MacDougal - START))
"Alright Augustus", his father said, pushing the countless leaflets he was reading (John MacDougal read way too many scientific leaflets, in Dougal's opinion) to the side and turning to face his son. "You sure you got your bags packed for tomorrow?"
"Yes, dad". Dougal sighed, leaning on the wall, his hands hovering near the front door ready to go out for one last night out with his mates before the trip tomorrow.
"Well, if you're so sure..." John MacDougal briefly glanced at his wife, giving her a look that said "Make sure anyway." Returning to his son, he continued "Shame about your sister's birthdays being on the second day of the trip." Dougal sighed. Big deal. They'd been over this countless times before. They'd already come to an agreement; Dougal will give them a call to say happy birthday, and his parents will give the girls his gifts (Dougal had, knowing how much Abigail loved his films to the point of obsession, gotten her a Johnny Depp boxset, and he'd brought Sophia a couple of cheap games for her new Wii.)
"Yes, dad, I know." Yes, his sisters' having their fifteenth birthdays was a joyous occasion and all, but Dougal had other things on his mind. The trip tomorrow would be his last proper time spent with his schoolmates, and he had his graduation coming up soon, and while he knew his parents appreciated that, they weren't showing it. His parents had already given him all the lectures about the trip and covered every possible problem countless times, and it was wearing Dougal's patience thin. "Do I have freedom to go now?"
His dad chuckled quietly. "Yeah, sure. See you later."
"Bye, son" his mum said, not looking up from the financial reports she was reading.
"Bye mum, bye dad." With that, Dougal swung open the door and shot out.
As memories of the night before, the day of the trip and the trip itself began to hit Dougal, he began to groggily open his eyes. Why he was lying face down in a dirty patch on the ground, the sounds of nature around him, his glasses sprawled out (but still intact) a foot or two away from him, he had no idea.
Then, one final memory hit him.
Fuck.
He was boned. He weren't cut out for this killing sport, hell, he weren't sure he'd been able to kill in self-defence, let alone actively hunt out his fellow classmates, no matter how stupid and annoyingly blindlessly optimistic some of them were.
Ignoring his friend Albert, who was being obliviously optimistic and calling him Doug (he HATED that show), he crawled to his feet, grabbing his dirty glasses as he did so, a blank look on his face.
He'd never see anyone again. He'd die.
He'd never see dad, mom, Jacob, Bill (he'd known that guy since he was in diapers), Alberta (he had had many a friendly argument with her), his sisters, his grandparents or even his girlfriend Annabel again. They'd all watch him die on the TV. Die a lonely, painful death; all because some homicidal fucks had to take their problems out on some random high school students as they prepared to graduate. He wouldn't survive. Neither would Albert. Or most other people on the trip. Teachers were already dead. This was as bad as things could get. Everything was fucked. On the bright side (well, on the not totally shitty side); none of his family or his little inner circle of friends would die a pointless, painful death here.
Struggling to remain calm, he stroked the intricate explosive-laden collar around his neck, still with a catatonic expression planted on his features. If he had the right time, tools and luck and didn't have the threat of having his neck blown to smithereens, he did probably have the scientific and technical expertise to remove it. However, he was too intelligent to take the risk. He didn't really wanna die such a pointless death by collar detonation. Jacob was a fan of the show, and even HE thought collar-fiddlers were as intelligent as a dung beetle.
It was pointless. He'd just be another bit of cannon fodder in Danya's pointless game.
Tears began streaming down his face as he collapsed onto his knees. He was crying, albeit almost silently, for the first time in years. This shit wasn't meant to happen to him. He had a life to live. He always had the opinion crying about problems couldn't solve them, but he had no other way to cope with his thoughts. Dougal may have viewed himself as a nihilist, but he liked living, and he didn't want to have to kill to survive. He held his head in his hands, tugging at his blonde hair. He was oblivious to his surroundings, including the two bags that had been dumped next to him.
"Alright Augustus", his father said, pushing the countless leaflets he was reading (John MacDougal read way too many scientific leaflets, in Dougal's opinion) to the side and turning to face his son. "You sure you got your bags packed for tomorrow?"
"Yes, dad". Dougal sighed, leaning on the wall, his hands hovering near the front door ready to go out for one last night out with his mates before the trip tomorrow.
"Well, if you're so sure..." John MacDougal briefly glanced at his wife, giving her a look that said "Make sure anyway." Returning to his son, he continued "Shame about your sister's birthdays being on the second day of the trip." Dougal sighed. Big deal. They'd been over this countless times before. They'd already come to an agreement; Dougal will give them a call to say happy birthday, and his parents will give the girls his gifts (Dougal had, knowing how much Abigail loved his films to the point of obsession, gotten her a Johnny Depp boxset, and he'd brought Sophia a couple of cheap games for her new Wii.)
"Yes, dad, I know." Yes, his sisters' having their fifteenth birthdays was a joyous occasion and all, but Dougal had other things on his mind. The trip tomorrow would be his last proper time spent with his schoolmates, and he had his graduation coming up soon, and while he knew his parents appreciated that, they weren't showing it. His parents had already given him all the lectures about the trip and covered every possible problem countless times, and it was wearing Dougal's patience thin. "Do I have freedom to go now?"
His dad chuckled quietly. "Yeah, sure. See you later."
"Bye, son" his mum said, not looking up from the financial reports she was reading.
"Bye mum, bye dad." With that, Dougal swung open the door and shot out.
As memories of the night before, the day of the trip and the trip itself began to hit Dougal, he began to groggily open his eyes. Why he was lying face down in a dirty patch on the ground, the sounds of nature around him, his glasses sprawled out (but still intact) a foot or two away from him, he had no idea.
Then, one final memory hit him.
Fuck.
He was boned. He weren't cut out for this killing sport, hell, he weren't sure he'd been able to kill in self-defence, let alone actively hunt out his fellow classmates, no matter how stupid and annoyingly blindlessly optimistic some of them were.
Ignoring his friend Albert, who was being obliviously optimistic and calling him Doug (he HATED that show), he crawled to his feet, grabbing his dirty glasses as he did so, a blank look on his face.
He'd never see anyone again. He'd die.
He'd never see dad, mom, Jacob, Bill (he'd known that guy since he was in diapers), Alberta (he had had many a friendly argument with her), his sisters, his grandparents or even his girlfriend Annabel again. They'd all watch him die on the TV. Die a lonely, painful death; all because some homicidal fucks had to take their problems out on some random high school students as they prepared to graduate. He wouldn't survive. Neither would Albert. Or most other people on the trip. Teachers were already dead. This was as bad as things could get. Everything was fucked. On the bright side (well, on the not totally shitty side); none of his family or his little inner circle of friends would die a pointless, painful death here.
Struggling to remain calm, he stroked the intricate explosive-laden collar around his neck, still with a catatonic expression planted on his features. If he had the right time, tools and luck and didn't have the threat of having his neck blown to smithereens, he did probably have the scientific and technical expertise to remove it. However, he was too intelligent to take the risk. He didn't really wanna die such a pointless death by collar detonation. Jacob was a fan of the show, and even HE thought collar-fiddlers were as intelligent as a dung beetle.
It was pointless. He'd just be another bit of cannon fodder in Danya's pointless game.
Tears began streaming down his face as he collapsed onto his knees. He was crying, albeit almost silently, for the first time in years. This shit wasn't meant to happen to him. He had a life to live. He always had the opinion crying about problems couldn't solve them, but he had no other way to cope with his thoughts. Dougal may have viewed himself as a nihilist, but he liked living, and he didn't want to have to kill to survive. He held his head in his hands, tugging at his blonde hair. He was oblivious to his surroundings, including the two bags that had been dumped next to him.
Hmm, This doesn't seem to be working as well as I thought it would. Come to think of it, from the looks of things this IS a pretty big island... Chances are, he's probably......
"Hi."
"HOLY CRA..."
Joshua leapt out of his skin in shock as he heard a strange voice greeting him from behind, catching him completely off-balance. So off-balance in fact, that as he turned around to see who it was he lost his footing and fell off the bench, landing with a heavy thud on his back.
Ow! Not again...
After a moment or so of just lying there, his head shot up to see who'd greeted him as he propped himself up to a prone position. He hoped dearly that it turned out to be someone he knew well like Marty or Daniel, or maybe even a cute girl he could talk to or something... But sadly it turned out to just be plain old Everett Taylor. Not anybody PARTICULARLY important then...
"Everett? Holy cow man, you scared the bejesus oughta me!"
He hastily scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the bench for support. As he stood there looking at the guy who'd just given him the fright of his life, a thought occurred... Whilst he didn't know that much about Everett personally, after all maths happened to be Joshua's worst subject, what he did know was that the guy was completely harmless. Whenever he'd seen him around school, he always struck Joshua as being a fairly nice guy. A bit stuck up occasionally, yes, but for the most part a decent enough guy. And Joshua, being the optimistic ball of fluff that he is, didn't see any reason whatsoever for why he shouldn't trust him.
Now if only he could convince Everett that he too was trustworthy...
"Hey there, uh... The name's Joshua. Although, you might already know that... Not really too sure... Um..."
"Look, uh... I know that this whole situation seems kinda crazy, what with the collars and everything... And I know that neither of us really know each other a whole lot, but I just wanna assure you that you have NOTHING to worry about... This whole "Survival of the Fittest" thing seems WAY too messed up for me personally... I mean, DUDE! Killing each other to survive?!? What kinda sick bastard thought THAT would be fun? Sure, its kinda fun in videogames... Heck, actually, its a helluva lot of fun in videogames...
"But, uh, thats not really the point i'm trying to make... What i'm tryin' to say here is that as long as i'm around, you don't have to worry about a....."
BOOOM!!!
"...... JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?"
The living anachronism was interrupted mid-speech by the sound of a small explosion from further down the mountain trail, the explosion in question being the same one which had recently taken the life of a certain Remi Pierce.
"Hi."
"HOLY CRA..."
Joshua leapt out of his skin in shock as he heard a strange voice greeting him from behind, catching him completely off-balance. So off-balance in fact, that as he turned around to see who it was he lost his footing and fell off the bench, landing with a heavy thud on his back.
Ow! Not again...
After a moment or so of just lying there, his head shot up to see who'd greeted him as he propped himself up to a prone position. He hoped dearly that it turned out to be someone he knew well like Marty or Daniel, or maybe even a cute girl he could talk to or something... But sadly it turned out to just be plain old Everett Taylor. Not anybody PARTICULARLY important then...
"Everett? Holy cow man, you scared the bejesus oughta me!"
He hastily scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the bench for support. As he stood there looking at the guy who'd just given him the fright of his life, a thought occurred... Whilst he didn't know that much about Everett personally, after all maths happened to be Joshua's worst subject, what he did know was that the guy was completely harmless. Whenever he'd seen him around school, he always struck Joshua as being a fairly nice guy. A bit stuck up occasionally, yes, but for the most part a decent enough guy. And Joshua, being the optimistic ball of fluff that he is, didn't see any reason whatsoever for why he shouldn't trust him.
Now if only he could convince Everett that he too was trustworthy...
"Hey there, uh... The name's Joshua. Although, you might already know that... Not really too sure... Um..."
"Look, uh... I know that this whole situation seems kinda crazy, what with the collars and everything... And I know that neither of us really know each other a whole lot, but I just wanna assure you that you have NOTHING to worry about... This whole "Survival of the Fittest" thing seems WAY too messed up for me personally... I mean, DUDE! Killing each other to survive?!? What kinda sick bastard thought THAT would be fun? Sure, its kinda fun in videogames... Heck, actually, its a helluva lot of fun in videogames...
"But, uh, thats not really the point i'm trying to make... What i'm tryin' to say here is that as long as i'm around, you don't have to worry about a....."
BOOOM!!!
"...... JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?"
The living anachronism was interrupted mid-speech by the sound of a small explosion from further down the mountain trail, the explosion in question being the same one which had recently taken the life of a certain Remi Pierce.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
As Everett spoke, Josh plummeted to the ground. That was a shock. For just a second, Everett was afraid he'd scared the boy to death. That would be... he didn't know if it would be horrible or wonderful. Everett didn't want to die. He was going to, but he didn't want to really. He couldn't kill anyone, though. Not only did he have no desire, he simply knew he was too much of a screw-up to ever succeed. He wouldn't even bother considering the path of the killer. It was pointless.
Then Josh got up, and said he'd been scared. Everett responded, cautiously, hoping he sounded sufficiently apologetic. "I... I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
He seemed fine. Introduced himself and everything. It was so strange, etiquette in this situation, but it helped keep things a little more real. Joshua (Everett wouldn't abbreviate without the boy's permission; some people hated that) launched into a little spiel, explaining that the game was sick and he wasn't going to be hurting Everett. That nearly brought tears to the heavyset boy's eyes. He wasn't going to be killed yet. Oh, sure, it would happen soon. Most likely, he and Josh would both be gunned down together by somebody who knew what they were doing. But for the moment, he could just hide behind the friendship it seemed he was being offered and pretend everything was going to be fine.
Then: the explosion.
He jumped, and let out a little shriek. Luckily, Joshua drowned it out with his own shouting. What was it? What had happened? Everett didn't want to know. So why was he heading that way? Why was he jogging, even though he was winded and his bags were heavy?
"This way," he called to Joshua. "And you don't have to worry either."
Maybe he was still having thoughts of suicide. Maybe he was trying to get shot, and save himself later pain. Really, though, he was probably just curious. It was probably that same instinct that led people to stare at car crashes as they passed by. It only took a couple of minutes for him to reach the source of the sound, and then he stopped.
There was a body. A headless body. In its hand, a twisted piece of metal that had once been a knife of some sort. It looked like the boy (it was a boy; the build wasn't right for a girl) had tried to use his weapon to pry his collar off. Everett had forgotten the collars. His hands went to his. It would just take one good yank, and he'd be like that too. It was horrifying. The blood. The death. The stench. He had no idea if Joshua was with him. His vision had narrowed. He could focus on only one thing. The corpse. He couldn't even tell who it had been.
Then he toppled to the ground, scraping his hands, and threw up. The odor of vomit mingled with the odor of death, as Everett crouched there, beginning to sob loudly. It was so real.
They were all going to die.
Then Josh got up, and said he'd been scared. Everett responded, cautiously, hoping he sounded sufficiently apologetic. "I... I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
He seemed fine. Introduced himself and everything. It was so strange, etiquette in this situation, but it helped keep things a little more real. Joshua (Everett wouldn't abbreviate without the boy's permission; some people hated that) launched into a little spiel, explaining that the game was sick and he wasn't going to be hurting Everett. That nearly brought tears to the heavyset boy's eyes. He wasn't going to be killed yet. Oh, sure, it would happen soon. Most likely, he and Josh would both be gunned down together by somebody who knew what they were doing. But for the moment, he could just hide behind the friendship it seemed he was being offered and pretend everything was going to be fine.
Then: the explosion.
He jumped, and let out a little shriek. Luckily, Joshua drowned it out with his own shouting. What was it? What had happened? Everett didn't want to know. So why was he heading that way? Why was he jogging, even though he was winded and his bags were heavy?
"This way," he called to Joshua. "And you don't have to worry either."
Maybe he was still having thoughts of suicide. Maybe he was trying to get shot, and save himself later pain. Really, though, he was probably just curious. It was probably that same instinct that led people to stare at car crashes as they passed by. It only took a couple of minutes for him to reach the source of the sound, and then he stopped.
There was a body. A headless body. In its hand, a twisted piece of metal that had once been a knife of some sort. It looked like the boy (it was a boy; the build wasn't right for a girl) had tried to use his weapon to pry his collar off. Everett had forgotten the collars. His hands went to his. It would just take one good yank, and he'd be like that too. It was horrifying. The blood. The death. The stench. He had no idea if Joshua was with him. His vision had narrowed. He could focus on only one thing. The corpse. He couldn't even tell who it had been.
Then he toppled to the ground, scraping his hands, and threw up. The odor of vomit mingled with the odor of death, as Everett crouched there, beginning to sob loudly. It was so real.
They were all going to die.
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JoystickHero†
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:34 am
Albert skipped, in a situation like this, quite literally skipped over to where his friend was standing, cheerfully carrying his new broken raft along with him. He was only a few feet away from Dougal when he fell to his knees. The motions made the light catch two things that Al noticed: the metal collar around his neck, and the streams of tears on his cheeks. Al's conscious mind slowly began to accept that maybe the dream WASN'T a dream, that maybe... maybe he HAD seen his teachers killed just a few yards away, and maybe he WAS about to watch his friends die around him until he too finally met his end. He finally began to accept the levity of the situation. Or he would have, if his subconscious hadn't had anything to say about the matter.
Albert Lions had spent his entire life completely failing to take anything seriously. Tests, injuries, risks of life and limb, nothing the boy had ever encountered had made him give anything more than a moment's thought. And he wasn't about to start now. Al did not panic. Al did not cry, or scream, or even frown. His mind would not let him. So what if we're in some stupid Survival thing? It's just reality TV. ...wonder when the producer will come on and ask one of us to 'lose' for the sake of ratings... His superego satisfied with the current state of things, and his id pleasantly placated, Al returned his attention to the going-ons around him. And, down in front of him, was something the boy's mind WOULD let him process.
"Dougal...?" Al crouched beside where his close friend, maybe his best friend, was doing something he'd never seen him do before. "D-don't cry, Dougal." He struggled to think of some way to cheer him up. "I... um... Oh! Did you hear the one about the.. uh... dog who tried to get a job...?" How did it go again? "Let's see... there's a dog, and he works for an office. No, wait, he WANTS to work for an office, and he's bilingual. He speaks Cat! Wait, that's the punchline..."
Albert Lions had spent his entire life completely failing to take anything seriously. Tests, injuries, risks of life and limb, nothing the boy had ever encountered had made him give anything more than a moment's thought. And he wasn't about to start now. Al did not panic. Al did not cry, or scream, or even frown. His mind would not let him. So what if we're in some stupid Survival thing? It's just reality TV. ...wonder when the producer will come on and ask one of us to 'lose' for the sake of ratings... His superego satisfied with the current state of things, and his id pleasantly placated, Al returned his attention to the going-ons around him. And, down in front of him, was something the boy's mind WOULD let him process.
"Dougal...?" Al crouched beside where his close friend, maybe his best friend, was doing something he'd never seen him do before. "D-don't cry, Dougal." He struggled to think of some way to cheer him up. "I... um... Oh! Did you hear the one about the.. uh... dog who tried to get a job...?" How did it go again? "Let's see... there's a dog, and he works for an office. No, wait, he WANTS to work for an office, and he's bilingual. He speaks Cat! Wait, that's the punchline..."
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Dougal continued to just sit there, head buried in his hands, and let tears stream down his pale face, ignoring the sounds and sights around him. He still hadn't even thought to check the two bags that were his only remaining possessions. He was breathing heavily, his mind trying to make sense of the situation. Would he be able to play? Would others be able to play? Was someone dead already? What weapon had he been rolled? How was his family and friends taking this? What human could do this and be able to sleep at night? Why the hell had he been in the one school unlucky enough to be affected by this? He was a good person, if a bit of a prick sometimes, he had his life to live, he had done NOTHING to deserve this. Nobody in his year had done anything to deserve it. NOBODY. They were just an average school in boring St. Paul, Minnesota, a state which the terrorists were meant to pass up on and focus on California and New York and whatnot instead....
His head was aching. His stomach felt like shit. His throat felt dry, his legs hurt and he just felt like shit in every humanly possible way.
He then noticed someone talking to him, trying to console him. It was Albert Lions, one of his best mates at Bayview. Whereas Dougal was a pessimistic cynical nihilist who thought evil was inevitable (but it weren't meant to happen to him. No, Dougal was not expecting that) and that in the grand scheme of things his life was pointless (the grand scheme of things being one of the many things Dougal really did not give a flying fuck about right this second), Albert was a optimistic, happy-go-lucky fellow who....no, he was just naive, plain and simple. No way around it. Dougal always hung out with the naive optimists, his own girlfriend being a prime example. Dougal just didn't like most of his fellow nihilists, a majority of them being stereotypical obnoxious twats who read Nietzsche (who Dougal had never even considered reading before) and completely missed the point of it.
And Albert had picked a GREAT way to try and comfort him. Telling a joke. A shitty joke that everyone had heard before and he couldn't even tell right. Now was not the time. This was just making Dougal feel worse.
And without even thinking about it, Dougal clenched his fist and threw a punch, aiming right at Albert's face.
His head was aching. His stomach felt like shit. His throat felt dry, his legs hurt and he just felt like shit in every humanly possible way.
He then noticed someone talking to him, trying to console him. It was Albert Lions, one of his best mates at Bayview. Whereas Dougal was a pessimistic cynical nihilist who thought evil was inevitable (but it weren't meant to happen to him. No, Dougal was not expecting that) and that in the grand scheme of things his life was pointless (the grand scheme of things being one of the many things Dougal really did not give a flying fuck about right this second), Albert was a optimistic, happy-go-lucky fellow who....no, he was just naive, plain and simple. No way around it. Dougal always hung out with the naive optimists, his own girlfriend being a prime example. Dougal just didn't like most of his fellow nihilists, a majority of them being stereotypical obnoxious twats who read Nietzsche (who Dougal had never even considered reading before) and completely missed the point of it.
And Albert had picked a GREAT way to try and comfort him. Telling a joke. A shitty joke that everyone had heard before and he couldn't even tell right. Now was not the time. This was just making Dougal feel worse.
And without even thinking about it, Dougal clenched his fist and threw a punch, aiming right at Albert's face.
Joshua was still in a state of shock when he noticed Everett heading off to investigate the noise ahead of him, prompting him to come along as he did so. He didn't really expect someone like Everett to be the kind of guy to rush off exploring the source of a recent explosion... Then again, when Joshua really thought about about it, he didn't actually know that much about him. Maybe the guy has hidden depths or something? Maybe deep beneath that overweight, nerdy exterior lies the heart of a true and brave hero... Nah, i'm just thinking about it too deeply...
... Wait, why the hell aren't I following him?
"Hey, wait up!"
He stumbled for a second as he quickly followed suit, trying his best to follow his new (potential)ally along the mountain trail without falling over and breaking his neck like an idiot. Damn! Who'd of thought it'd be so hard to keep up with a chubby guy like Everett!
It didn't take long until Everett had come across the source of the explosion, only to react to it by falling onto his knees and vomiting all over the ground. Joshua couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight, his first instinct being to make an attempt at calming the poor guy down.
"Woah, hey there man. Its okay... I'm sure it isn't that......"
Then he saw what Everett was crying about. Namely the headless corpse of Remi Pierce.
"... OH F---"
He covered his mouth and looked away almost immediately, sheer force of will alone being the only thing stopping him from vomiting on the spot himself. Never in his entire life had he ever witnessed anything truly as horrifying or disturbing as the sight that lay before him. Sure, he'd watched countless gory movies in the past. Wasted countless hours playing gory videogames. Hell, he even somehow stomached that infamous "Offended" page on Encyclopedia Dramatica once... But not even THAT, in all its gratuitousness could have prepared him for seeing the real thing. Jesus... So much for videogames and violent movies desensitizing the real deal...
He looked back at the body briefly, assuring himself that it really was someone's corpse and not just some trick of the light. He couldn't really blame Everett for his reaction... Hell, he was kinda surprised he didn't empty the contents of his stomach all over the floor himself.
Little to say, the sight was more than enough to remind Joshua just how dangerous the situation really was... At least partially.
Oh god... People really ARE dying out there, aren't they? This isn't some fucked-up hoax or anything, Mr Whatshisface really means business... Not good. Not good at all...
Another thing that the sight brought attention to was the problem with trying to remove the collars...
Poor bastard... So this is what happens to people who try to screw with the system, huh? They end up getting their head blown off...
Jesus... I'm gonna have to be more careful then. Removing this thing around my neck isn't going to be as easy as I thought it'd be...
Another loud sob from Everett quickly reminded him of his existence, and the fact that the longer they stick around this corpse the worse its going to get...
"Uh... I dunno about you, but I think it'll be best that we move somewhere a little less... Well, y'know, corpse-infested..."
... Wait, why the hell aren't I following him?
"Hey, wait up!"
He stumbled for a second as he quickly followed suit, trying his best to follow his new (potential)ally along the mountain trail without falling over and breaking his neck like an idiot. Damn! Who'd of thought it'd be so hard to keep up with a chubby guy like Everett!
It didn't take long until Everett had come across the source of the explosion, only to react to it by falling onto his knees and vomiting all over the ground. Joshua couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight, his first instinct being to make an attempt at calming the poor guy down.
"Woah, hey there man. Its okay... I'm sure it isn't that......"
Then he saw what Everett was crying about. Namely the headless corpse of Remi Pierce.
"... OH F---"
He covered his mouth and looked away almost immediately, sheer force of will alone being the only thing stopping him from vomiting on the spot himself. Never in his entire life had he ever witnessed anything truly as horrifying or disturbing as the sight that lay before him. Sure, he'd watched countless gory movies in the past. Wasted countless hours playing gory videogames. Hell, he even somehow stomached that infamous "Offended" page on Encyclopedia Dramatica once... But not even THAT, in all its gratuitousness could have prepared him for seeing the real thing. Jesus... So much for videogames and violent movies desensitizing the real deal...
He looked back at the body briefly, assuring himself that it really was someone's corpse and not just some trick of the light. He couldn't really blame Everett for his reaction... Hell, he was kinda surprised he didn't empty the contents of his stomach all over the floor himself.
Little to say, the sight was more than enough to remind Joshua just how dangerous the situation really was... At least partially.
Oh god... People really ARE dying out there, aren't they? This isn't some fucked-up hoax or anything, Mr Whatshisface really means business... Not good. Not good at all...
Another thing that the sight brought attention to was the problem with trying to remove the collars...
Poor bastard... So this is what happens to people who try to screw with the system, huh? They end up getting their head blown off...
Jesus... I'm gonna have to be more careful then. Removing this thing around my neck isn't going to be as easy as I thought it'd be...
Another loud sob from Everett quickly reminded him of his existence, and the fact that the longer they stick around this corpse the worse its going to get...
"Uh... I dunno about you, but I think it'll be best that we move somewhere a little less... Well, y'know, corpse-infested..."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Josh said something about moving. Everett couldn't even pay attention. Every facet of his being was focused on rejecting the horror in front of him. This was his new reality, though, and boy was it grim. Sooner or later they'd all end up like Remi. They'd all be dead, stinking up the air. Everett didn't know if he believed in an afterlife. He hoped there was one. That meant, when this was all over, he'd have somewhere to go, something besides nothing to look forward to.
He sort of doubted it, though. No deity, well, no good or kind one, would have allowed Remi to be lying there headless.
Various fluids, primarily tears, spit, and puke, were oozing down Everett's chin. He couldn't focus on anything. He was trying to push himself out of this place, retreat in his mind to somewhere better. He could be back at school. At school, waiting for Mrs. Bishop.
Wait. Wait, she was dead. Dead, just like Remi. Oh god. Oh god. Dead like Everett would be soon.
What could he do? There was nothing. Not a thing. He just stayed there, heaving again and again as the smell of blood assailed him.
He sort of doubted it, though. No deity, well, no good or kind one, would have allowed Remi to be lying there headless.
Various fluids, primarily tears, spit, and puke, were oozing down Everett's chin. He couldn't focus on anything. He was trying to push himself out of this place, retreat in his mind to somewhere better. He could be back at school. At school, waiting for Mrs. Bishop.
Wait. Wait, she was dead. Dead, just like Remi. Oh god. Oh god. Dead like Everett would be soon.
What could he do? There was nothing. Not a thing. He just stayed there, heaving again and again as the smell of blood assailed him.
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JoystickHero†
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:34 am
Albert had known Dougal for a while now, and the boy liked to consider him one of his closest friends. They got along well enough, and Dougal's down-to-earth mentality balanced out his own... youth. So, he felt fairly confident in saying that this was not like Dougal, not as Al knew him, at least. He fe-
And without even thinking about it, Dougal clenched his fist and threw a punch, aiming right at Albert's face.
Al didn't even realize it was coming until it hit him, slamming into his jaw, and knocking him back onto the ground. Now, Albert Lions was no stranger to pain, his recklessness got him injured more times than his parents cared to count, but this was different. He hadn't fallen off a roof, or walked into a door, he'd been punched. By Augustus MacDougal.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Al stopped talking. Slowly, he sat up, one hand cupped over the forming bruise, and looked at Dougal, his eyes filled with pain, and confusion... and fear. "I-I..."
And without even thinking about it, Dougal clenched his fist and threw a punch, aiming right at Albert's face.
Al didn't even realize it was coming until it hit him, slamming into his jaw, and knocking him back onto the ground. Now, Albert Lions was no stranger to pain, his recklessness got him injured more times than his parents cared to count, but this was different. He hadn't fallen off a roof, or walked into a door, he'd been punched. By Augustus MacDougal.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Al stopped talking. Slowly, he sat up, one hand cupped over the forming bruise, and looked at Dougal, his eyes filled with pain, and confusion... and fear. "I-I..."
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
The punch connected, knocking Albert down and shutting him up immediately. Dougal relished the brief silence between the two, using the opportunity to climb to his feet, collect his thoughts and let out a heavy sigh, quickly dusting some dirt off of his jeans. At least he'd stopped his pitiful crying; now he could focus on checking his bags and thinking of a pragmatic way to tackle this problem.
He then looked at Albert.
Albert was giving Dougal a look that Dougal had never received before. Albert was in a state of shock, and he looked scared. He was scared of him, stuttering as he tried to respond.
Well, great job Augustus MacDougal. You've just made one of your best friends terrified of you. Well done, you're doing EXACTLY what Danya wants you to do.
"Shit...sorry, Albert....but...." Dougal struggled to think of a way to justify his impulses to Albert without being too blunt or even more jerkish. "Basically, we're going to die, and your jokey attitude weren't helping. The only way we can survive is if we kill our classmates, which I am NOT keen on doing, or finding some magical genie bottle and wishing our way out of this or something." Dougal had already written off the possibility of escape; it weren't going to happen. The cameras and the collars made sure of that, and even if those two issues were gone, the lack of a proper boat would be an issue.
"Listen, Albert....let's just stay together for now. Sorry about that punch. It's just....you were pissing me off. Here, lemme help you up. No major damage?" He offered his hand to Albert, hoping he would be in a forgiving mood. Looking around the area, he noticed two bags. One was his one bag (presumably still filled with his clothes and stuff) and one other bag he'd never seen before. And on that bag, rested two wooden skis. His 'weapon' roll, presumably.
Oh, hardy dee har har.
Fuck you, Danya.
He then looked at Albert.
Albert was giving Dougal a look that Dougal had never received before. Albert was in a state of shock, and he looked scared. He was scared of him, stuttering as he tried to respond.
Well, great job Augustus MacDougal. You've just made one of your best friends terrified of you. Well done, you're doing EXACTLY what Danya wants you to do.
"Shit...sorry, Albert....but...." Dougal struggled to think of a way to justify his impulses to Albert without being too blunt or even more jerkish. "Basically, we're going to die, and your jokey attitude weren't helping. The only way we can survive is if we kill our classmates, which I am NOT keen on doing, or finding some magical genie bottle and wishing our way out of this or something." Dougal had already written off the possibility of escape; it weren't going to happen. The cameras and the collars made sure of that, and even if those two issues were gone, the lack of a proper boat would be an issue.
"Listen, Albert....let's just stay together for now. Sorry about that punch. It's just....you were pissing me off. Here, lemme help you up. No major damage?" He offered his hand to Albert, hoping he would be in a forgiving mood. Looking around the area, he noticed two bags. One was his one bag (presumably still filled with his clothes and stuff) and one other bag he'd never seen before. And on that bag, rested two wooden skis. His 'weapon' roll, presumably.
Oh, hardy dee har har.
Fuck you, Danya.
"Everett? Hey, you in there? C'mon man, speak to me..."
This... Wasn't good. It wasn't as if he couldn't really blame Everett for freaking out at the sight of a headless corpse. Hell, he was surprised HE hadn't freaked by now... Maybe I already have? What if I, like, went SO batshit crazy from the very sight that dead guy that all of this is just one big crazy hallucination?!?
Ah well, might as well roll with it...
Joking aside, the fact still remained that it'd probably be best to get a move on... Joshua didn't know much about biology, but even HE knew that staying around a corpse was a definite no-no... There were nasty diseases you could catch, nauseous smells that could attract unwanted attention... And the plain simple fact that it wasn't exactly a pleasant thing to have lying around the place!
Now, if only he could convince Everett...
"Hate to break it to you man, but he ain't coming back up. Staring at him long enough ain't gonna work either, you know..."
No reply.
"Uh... Look, um... The longer we stay here, the worse it's gonna get y'know? We may as well get a move on while the gettings good, y'know what I'm saying?"
STILL no reply...
He considered the possibility of just leaving Everett there to mope in his own sorrows as he looked for a way off this island... Briefly. He quickly chucked the thought aside, shocked that such an idea could ever even occur to him. He couldn't leave Everett alone out here... Who knows what the hell could happen? Sure, they barely knew each other... Come to think of it, he couldn't remember ever actually talking to Everett before today... But damnit! Joshua wasn't about to leave the living person he'd come across to wallow in his own fear...
Okay then... Seems i'm gonna have to be more convincing then that...
With that in mind, he grabbed Everett's right's shoulder. Shaking him briefly in order to get the heavier boy's full attention on him...
"Everett, listen to me man! I know things are looking bad right now... I don't blame you for being scared an' all... Hell, even i'm scared! Scared shitless I tell ya... But we gotta move on! Face the facts, y'know?"
"And besides, think about it man! You really think anybody's actually gonna buy into this? Name me ONE guy you could honestly imagine actually playing along... I know I can't! Sure, the're plenty of assholes around here... Guys like Dustin Royale and Philip Ward... But could you imagine even a guy as much as a douche as Phil being sick enough to actually go around killing people?"
"I'm not sayin' we ain't got nothin' to worry about... That dead guy over there's proof enough that these guys mean business. But the only reason HE died was 'cause he was being an idiot and tried to remove his collar thingie! Not that some crazed madman came along and blew his head off or something..."
Well... Probably, anyway.
"I'm sure there must be a way to get these collars off WITHOUT blowing ourselves up... There are plenty of smart guys here who know a lot about electronics, right? Maybe one of THEM could figure out a way to get 'em off... And once we've gotten that out the way, we can concentrate on finding a way out of here!"
"You hear me Everett? We can do it man! We can FIGHT the system! Hit 'em where it hurts! Show them they can only force us to do two things around here... Jack, and SHIT!"
"So whaddya say, man... Are you with me?"
He offered Everett his hand, taking the opportunity to take a breather as he eagerly awaited the other boy's response...
... He just prayed that there would actually be one this time.
This... Wasn't good. It wasn't as if he couldn't really blame Everett for freaking out at the sight of a headless corpse. Hell, he was surprised HE hadn't freaked by now... Maybe I already have? What if I, like, went SO batshit crazy from the very sight that dead guy that all of this is just one big crazy hallucination?!?
Ah well, might as well roll with it...
Joking aside, the fact still remained that it'd probably be best to get a move on... Joshua didn't know much about biology, but even HE knew that staying around a corpse was a definite no-no... There were nasty diseases you could catch, nauseous smells that could attract unwanted attention... And the plain simple fact that it wasn't exactly a pleasant thing to have lying around the place!
Now, if only he could convince Everett...
"Hate to break it to you man, but he ain't coming back up. Staring at him long enough ain't gonna work either, you know..."
No reply.
"Uh... Look, um... The longer we stay here, the worse it's gonna get y'know? We may as well get a move on while the gettings good, y'know what I'm saying?"
STILL no reply...
He considered the possibility of just leaving Everett there to mope in his own sorrows as he looked for a way off this island... Briefly. He quickly chucked the thought aside, shocked that such an idea could ever even occur to him. He couldn't leave Everett alone out here... Who knows what the hell could happen? Sure, they barely knew each other... Come to think of it, he couldn't remember ever actually talking to Everett before today... But damnit! Joshua wasn't about to leave the living person he'd come across to wallow in his own fear...
Okay then... Seems i'm gonna have to be more convincing then that...
With that in mind, he grabbed Everett's right's shoulder. Shaking him briefly in order to get the heavier boy's full attention on him...
"Everett, listen to me man! I know things are looking bad right now... I don't blame you for being scared an' all... Hell, even i'm scared! Scared shitless I tell ya... But we gotta move on! Face the facts, y'know?"
"And besides, think about it man! You really think anybody's actually gonna buy into this? Name me ONE guy you could honestly imagine actually playing along... I know I can't! Sure, the're plenty of assholes around here... Guys like Dustin Royale and Philip Ward... But could you imagine even a guy as much as a douche as Phil being sick enough to actually go around killing people?"
"I'm not sayin' we ain't got nothin' to worry about... That dead guy over there's proof enough that these guys mean business. But the only reason HE died was 'cause he was being an idiot and tried to remove his collar thingie! Not that some crazed madman came along and blew his head off or something..."
Well... Probably, anyway.
"I'm sure there must be a way to get these collars off WITHOUT blowing ourselves up... There are plenty of smart guys here who know a lot about electronics, right? Maybe one of THEM could figure out a way to get 'em off... And once we've gotten that out the way, we can concentrate on finding a way out of here!"
"You hear me Everett? We can do it man! We can FIGHT the system! Hit 'em where it hurts! Show them they can only force us to do two things around here... Jack, and SHIT!"
"So whaddya say, man... Are you with me?"
He offered Everett his hand, taking the opportunity to take a breather as he eagerly awaited the other boy's response...
... He just prayed that there would actually be one this time.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Death. Death was right here, in front of Everett. Something he had never been faced with before. A human. Dead. It was so different from all those history books and novels. Those could make him feel queasy, but real, actual death staring him in the face? The horror was indescribable. And that was what awaited him. He would be just like Remi soon. Dead. Bleeding out. Stinking. Wait, no, he already had that down. He was pouring sweat, from fear and exertion.
But Josh was talking. Explaining things. Everett just listened. The boy speaking to him was right. He was actually right. Bayview had its share of jerks, but no remorseless killers. Remi... Yeah, he'd been dumb. Really dumb. He'd tried to pull the collar off. They'd been told not to do that. It would have been a pretty awful thing to bluff about. Someone was sure to try it. Of course it had happened. It might again. But really, all they had to do was keep moving, dodging the danger zones. One person had to die each day, right? That left them nearly a whole year! Surely someone would find them and rescue them by then.
"Yeah," he managed to say. "Yeah, Josh. You... you're right."
They could also fight the system. Bayview had its share of geniuses. They'd always bugged Everett so much. Now, though, he really, really wanted to see Peter McCue. Someone had to know enough about electronics to get these things off. And then, once they were free, they would just wait. Someone would come rescue them, catch the terrorists, save the day! Right on!
Everett stiffly straightened up, and said, "I'm with you, Josh. I'll help you. You... really think we can beat this?"
Yes. Yes, they would. They'd get out of here. Him and Josh and everyone else they could find. And people would only die if they got stuck in danger zones or freaked out or ran out of food. Oh. Right. Food. They'd have to do something about that. But surely there were some hunters in class. They were from Minnesota, after all. It'd be like Survivor or something. They'd be fine.
He knew it was a lie, but he could pretend, at least until someone started shooting.
But Josh was talking. Explaining things. Everett just listened. The boy speaking to him was right. He was actually right. Bayview had its share of jerks, but no remorseless killers. Remi... Yeah, he'd been dumb. Really dumb. He'd tried to pull the collar off. They'd been told not to do that. It would have been a pretty awful thing to bluff about. Someone was sure to try it. Of course it had happened. It might again. But really, all they had to do was keep moving, dodging the danger zones. One person had to die each day, right? That left them nearly a whole year! Surely someone would find them and rescue them by then.
"Yeah," he managed to say. "Yeah, Josh. You... you're right."
They could also fight the system. Bayview had its share of geniuses. They'd always bugged Everett so much. Now, though, he really, really wanted to see Peter McCue. Someone had to know enough about electronics to get these things off. And then, once they were free, they would just wait. Someone would come rescue them, catch the terrorists, save the day! Right on!
Everett stiffly straightened up, and said, "I'm with you, Josh. I'll help you. You... really think we can beat this?"
Yes. Yes, they would. They'd get out of here. Him and Josh and everyone else they could find. And people would only die if they got stuck in danger zones or freaked out or ran out of food. Oh. Right. Food. They'd have to do something about that. But surely there were some hunters in class. They were from Minnesota, after all. It'd be like Survivor or something. They'd be fine.
He knew it was a lie, but he could pretend, at least until someone started shooting.