(Andrew Mitchell continued from Where Was My Mind?)
Andrew took in several deep lungfuls of air as he bent over on his knees, his pistol tucked into his pocket as he took a look around at his new surroundings. He was outside some tunnels or something...he definitely didn't feel like going inside them, though. He didn't know how much time had passed since he left Adrian at the mines, but he didn't think it was that long. The jog had done him some good, though. He felt refreshed...well, more refreshed in that if he had a good bed he could probably fall down on it and sleep for the rest of the game. It was almost appealing in a way.
Either way, he was here, he finally felt like sleeping, and Adrian probably was wondering where the fuck he was at the moment. Andrew grinned, shaking his head a bit. He was certain the other boy could handle himself. Besides, it was nice to be out here in the open and just let yourself go for a bit. He stretched, taking the pistol in his hand and pointing it at a tree, imagining himself as some hero from an action flick. 'Ahahah, like something like that would ever happen.'
"Enough goofing around...I suppose I should get back."
Sprint for the Finish Line
Andrew's Death; Private
Sprint for the Finish Line
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Hollyquin†
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[[Hayley Kelly continued from Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen]]
"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"
No. No, she really, really didn't.
But as time passed, as they made their way out of those woods, she regained a certain joie de vivre. Or, really, the appearance of such, given that her actual mental state was slightly and most likely permanently FUBAR. Maybe that was the normal, expected response of the brain of a teenage girl who just watched her boyfriend get shot and die. It really wasn't such a common experience that Hayley could know for sure, though there was probably a girl or two (or boy, maybe) here on Survival of the Fittest who she could interview about the experience.
Not that she wanted to talk to anyone, really. People weren't her game, not really, not now, not anymore.
They'd hustled out of the woods in good time, making good on Hayley's need to be as far away from that place as possible. It was really good fortune that the dynamic duo of Hayley and Ema hadn't yet run into anyone, particularly on the part of anyone who was not currently feening for a bullet to the face, which was about all Hayley had to offer right now.
Someone's getting paranoid. No, wait, you're always paranoid, so someone's going crazy, then?
Shush. It's not paranoia when they're all ACTUALLY after you and it's not insanity when it's Survival of the Fittest, yeah? You can't be crazy on Survival of the Fittest. Well, like, you can be, when you start drinking the blood of your enemies and like...howling at the moon, but I'm not doing that, I'm just trying to keep us al-
And you failed at that pretty spectacularly.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. No one likes you, internal-dialogue-voice.
I'm sure the kids at home would love me, only they can't hear me because oh RIGHT, I'm your hallucinatory inner voice.
Go away.
Hayley had the very strong urge to clutch her ears, shake her head, chase the demons in her head away just for a bit, but she was in control enough to know that then she'd actually be inarguably insane and she really, really didn't want that. She was...normal was not the right world, normal girls don't have to watch their boyfriends die, normal girls didn't kill people without even feeling much of anything at all, normal girls didn't...
Whatever. I wasn't normal to begin with.
A great defense in any court of law.
She allowed a muttered "I said GO AWAY" to slip before she realized that she was in fact speaking out loud to the voice inside her head. Not good. She gave Ema a sheepish smile that probably wasn't doing her any favors before grabbing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it.
Nicotine'd always been the cure for Hayley's personal demons. Now was no exception.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Better," she said out loud before looking at Ema as the two continued to walk.
"...I just don't know what to say."
That was the truth and she fell back into silence after she said it. Her feelings had been expressed pretty clearly through her actions and her tears and what was she supposed to say? How she missed him? That was obvious. How fucking stupid she felt for letting him die? That was just fishing for compliments. How she might have been in love with him? Yeah, Ema would love that.
Where the fuck were they, anyway? After leaving the woods Hayley hadn't been paying too much attention to her surroundings, relying on Ema to make sure she didn't run into a gunfight, or a tree. Looking around she saw that they were approaching a...was that a fucking tunnel? Why the fuck was there a tunnel? She pulled out her map and saw that there was in fact a fucking tunnel, and that they'd in fact covered a good distance since morning. Huh. Well, Hayley didn't really want to spend much time in a goddamn tunnel most likely inhabited by bats and like...cave scorpions and shit, but it seemed like a decent place to rest for a few minutes. Once she became aware of her feet she realized they hurt like hell.
Inhale. Exhale.
Blowing smoke, she made her way for-
Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait who the FUCK.
There was a person there. A person who stubbornly refused to be Alex or Maddy or Isabel or Jay or Dutchy or Kyle or anyone else she really wanted to see right now, and she took that almost as a personal affront. She did recognize the boy, actually- his name was Andrew and he was kind of cute which was probably why she remembered him. Attractiveness only got you so far on Survival of the Fittest, though, and Hayley muttered a warning of "stay down" to Ema as she hid herself behind a tree.
Game time, she thought.
Sorry, kid. You were pretty cool and everything but I can't take a chance on you.
She looked out from behind the tree, trying to present a small a target as possible, and...
and he was pointing a gun right at her and everything went red.
Panic set in immediately as she drew Vera immediately and clicked the trigger five times in rapid succession-
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
She was hardly looking, hardly aiming, blind in fucking panic, but right now it was the best she could do.
"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"
No. No, she really, really didn't.
But as time passed, as they made their way out of those woods, she regained a certain joie de vivre. Or, really, the appearance of such, given that her actual mental state was slightly and most likely permanently FUBAR. Maybe that was the normal, expected response of the brain of a teenage girl who just watched her boyfriend get shot and die. It really wasn't such a common experience that Hayley could know for sure, though there was probably a girl or two (or boy, maybe) here on Survival of the Fittest who she could interview about the experience.
Not that she wanted to talk to anyone, really. People weren't her game, not really, not now, not anymore.
They'd hustled out of the woods in good time, making good on Hayley's need to be as far away from that place as possible. It was really good fortune that the dynamic duo of Hayley and Ema hadn't yet run into anyone, particularly on the part of anyone who was not currently feening for a bullet to the face, which was about all Hayley had to offer right now.
Someone's getting paranoid. No, wait, you're always paranoid, so someone's going crazy, then?
Shush. It's not paranoia when they're all ACTUALLY after you and it's not insanity when it's Survival of the Fittest, yeah? You can't be crazy on Survival of the Fittest. Well, like, you can be, when you start drinking the blood of your enemies and like...howling at the moon, but I'm not doing that, I'm just trying to keep us al-
And you failed at that pretty spectacularly.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. No one likes you, internal-dialogue-voice.
I'm sure the kids at home would love me, only they can't hear me because oh RIGHT, I'm your hallucinatory inner voice.
Go away.
Hayley had the very strong urge to clutch her ears, shake her head, chase the demons in her head away just for a bit, but she was in control enough to know that then she'd actually be inarguably insane and she really, really didn't want that. She was...normal was not the right world, normal girls don't have to watch their boyfriends die, normal girls didn't kill people without even feeling much of anything at all, normal girls didn't...
Whatever. I wasn't normal to begin with.
A great defense in any court of law.
She allowed a muttered "I said GO AWAY" to slip before she realized that she was in fact speaking out loud to the voice inside her head. Not good. She gave Ema a sheepish smile that probably wasn't doing her any favors before grabbing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it.
Nicotine'd always been the cure for Hayley's personal demons. Now was no exception.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Better," she said out loud before looking at Ema as the two continued to walk.
"...I just don't know what to say."
That was the truth and she fell back into silence after she said it. Her feelings had been expressed pretty clearly through her actions and her tears and what was she supposed to say? How she missed him? That was obvious. How fucking stupid she felt for letting him die? That was just fishing for compliments. How she might have been in love with him? Yeah, Ema would love that.
Where the fuck were they, anyway? After leaving the woods Hayley hadn't been paying too much attention to her surroundings, relying on Ema to make sure she didn't run into a gunfight, or a tree. Looking around she saw that they were approaching a...was that a fucking tunnel? Why the fuck was there a tunnel? She pulled out her map and saw that there was in fact a fucking tunnel, and that they'd in fact covered a good distance since morning. Huh. Well, Hayley didn't really want to spend much time in a goddamn tunnel most likely inhabited by bats and like...cave scorpions and shit, but it seemed like a decent place to rest for a few minutes. Once she became aware of her feet she realized they hurt like hell.
Inhale. Exhale.
Blowing smoke, she made her way for-
Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait who the FUCK.
There was a person there. A person who stubbornly refused to be Alex or Maddy or Isabel or Jay or Dutchy or Kyle or anyone else she really wanted to see right now, and she took that almost as a personal affront. She did recognize the boy, actually- his name was Andrew and he was kind of cute which was probably why she remembered him. Attractiveness only got you so far on Survival of the Fittest, though, and Hayley muttered a warning of "stay down" to Ema as she hid herself behind a tree.
Game time, she thought.
Sorry, kid. You were pretty cool and everything but I can't take a chance on you.
She looked out from behind the tree, trying to present a small a target as possible, and...
and he was pointing a gun right at her and everything went red.
Panic set in immediately as she drew Vera immediately and clicked the trigger five times in rapid succession-
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
She was hardly looking, hardly aiming, blind in fucking panic, but right now it was the best she could do.
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[Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen --> Ema Ryan]
The journey was surprisingly normal. Awkward lack of conversation had already become the norm, so simply changing the reason why neither person wanted to talk didn't change the familiarity of the situation. Hayley didn't want to discuss it. Ema didn't blame her. She knew the feeling, or a close enough approximation of it. Speaking of the journey, where were the two of them even going at this point? Ema felt like asking, but it was clear enough that there was no real destination any more. The plan seemed to have become "mill around and hope we come across Alex's group". And if they encountered anyone hostile, heaven have mercy on them, Hayley looked more dangerous/unstable than ever.
Ema wished she could say the same of herself, but Kyle's death - and the associated renewal of fear in everyone on the island, including Hayley - had had rather the opposite effect on her. She was back to the quiet, nervous demeanour she'd had between leaving the Key and linking up with Hayley and Kyle, and perhaps even more paranoid than that second night in the forest. The sounds of snapping twigs beneath her own feet even made her twitchy.
Then again, maybe twitchy-paranoid was just as dangerous, when the person being it is also carrying a big, sharp sword. Jump with surprise in the wrong direction and who knows what might happen. That thought comforted Ema, oddly enough, paranoia's still paranoia even if they are out to get you, but it's not an unhealthy variety any more.
Ironic really, that whilst thinking about that, should Ema hear what sounded like whispering. She was instantly alert, and her eyes darted towards where the sound had come from... only to find herself staring at a rather awkwardly grinning Hayley. Talking to herself? Probably. She didn't have it in her to blame the other girl, as traumatic experiences go, watching someone you care about die ranks pretty highly. Just muttering to yourself is a rather tame side effect, all things considered. Hayley lit a cigarette, presumably to calm herself. Again, the paranoid Irish girl couldn't blame her, and simply adjusted her path to not be downwind of the foul smoke.
"Better."
Silence reclaimed the pair for a while more, broken only by the sounds of movement, but was again broken soon enough.
"...I just don't know what to say."
Yeah, that was kind of to be expected. It was usually the reason Ema gave - if only to herself - for not wanting to talk about things. A few prominent examples decided to spring to mind, quite against her better judgement, but she quickly purged her thoughts of them. Neither envy nor anger were much help now, and neither of them felt right to direct at Hayley after what she'd just been through.
"Tragic, maybe, but it don't change the past."
Ema ignored that, and didn't dwell on the fact that she was still talking to herself, even inwardly, after all this time. It wasn't schizophrenia or anything, just personifying the thoughts she didn't like as a person, a version of herself, that she also didn't like. Or at least, she told herself that. In all honesty, she didn't even know the exact definition of it anyway, but she was pretty sure what she was experiencing wasn't it.
Besides, even if she was feeling either of those things, it all became rather hypocritical when she remembered what other emotions were involved with regards to Hayley. Her best friend... her only friend, now. And her e--
"Stay down."
Funny, that sounded like her other inner dialogue voice, the one that said the reasonable things, not snarky sarcastic stuff. No wait, that was Hayley talking, and there was someone just a few meters ahead of them. Ema did as she was told and ducked into cover behind the widest tree trunk nearby. Five gunshots shattered the silence. By now it was easy to tell which gun they were from. But to be safe, she stayed exactly where she was. Not even the slightest movement until she heard someone fall.
The journey was surprisingly normal. Awkward lack of conversation had already become the norm, so simply changing the reason why neither person wanted to talk didn't change the familiarity of the situation. Hayley didn't want to discuss it. Ema didn't blame her. She knew the feeling, or a close enough approximation of it. Speaking of the journey, where were the two of them even going at this point? Ema felt like asking, but it was clear enough that there was no real destination any more. The plan seemed to have become "mill around and hope we come across Alex's group". And if they encountered anyone hostile, heaven have mercy on them, Hayley looked more dangerous/unstable than ever.
Ema wished she could say the same of herself, but Kyle's death - and the associated renewal of fear in everyone on the island, including Hayley - had had rather the opposite effect on her. She was back to the quiet, nervous demeanour she'd had between leaving the Key and linking up with Hayley and Kyle, and perhaps even more paranoid than that second night in the forest. The sounds of snapping twigs beneath her own feet even made her twitchy.
Then again, maybe twitchy-paranoid was just as dangerous, when the person being it is also carrying a big, sharp sword. Jump with surprise in the wrong direction and who knows what might happen. That thought comforted Ema, oddly enough, paranoia's still paranoia even if they are out to get you, but it's not an unhealthy variety any more.
Ironic really, that whilst thinking about that, should Ema hear what sounded like whispering. She was instantly alert, and her eyes darted towards where the sound had come from... only to find herself staring at a rather awkwardly grinning Hayley. Talking to herself? Probably. She didn't have it in her to blame the other girl, as traumatic experiences go, watching someone you care about die ranks pretty highly. Just muttering to yourself is a rather tame side effect, all things considered. Hayley lit a cigarette, presumably to calm herself. Again, the paranoid Irish girl couldn't blame her, and simply adjusted her path to not be downwind of the foul smoke.
"Better."
Silence reclaimed the pair for a while more, broken only by the sounds of movement, but was again broken soon enough.
"...I just don't know what to say."
Yeah, that was kind of to be expected. It was usually the reason Ema gave - if only to herself - for not wanting to talk about things. A few prominent examples decided to spring to mind, quite against her better judgement, but she quickly purged her thoughts of them. Neither envy nor anger were much help now, and neither of them felt right to direct at Hayley after what she'd just been through.
"Tragic, maybe, but it don't change the past."
Ema ignored that, and didn't dwell on the fact that she was still talking to herself, even inwardly, after all this time. It wasn't schizophrenia or anything, just personifying the thoughts she didn't like as a person, a version of herself, that she also didn't like. Or at least, she told herself that. In all honesty, she didn't even know the exact definition of it anyway, but she was pretty sure what she was experiencing wasn't it.
Besides, even if she was feeling either of those things, it all became rather hypocritical when she remembered what other emotions were involved with regards to Hayley. Her best friend... her only friend, now. And her e--
"Stay down."
Funny, that sounded like her other inner dialogue voice, the one that said the reasonable things, not snarky sarcastic stuff. No wait, that was Hayley talking, and there was someone just a few meters ahead of them. Ema did as she was told and ducked into cover behind the widest tree trunk nearby. Five gunshots shattered the silence. By now it was easy to tell which gun they were from. But to be safe, she stayed exactly where she was. Not even the slightest movement until she heard someone fall.
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Holy shit. What the fuck was happening? Andrew's thoughts were in a whirl as he heard five gunshots ring in the air followed by excruciating pain through his stomach and chest. His legs gave out from under him and the pistol he had been holding fell out of his grip to land with a soft clatter at it hit the ground. He tried to gulp down air and tasted blood in his mouth. What the hell? He had just been standing there and someone shot him? And now he was going to die? He knew there was nothing else he could do...he didn't even have the luxury to scrabble for his first aid kit or anything like that.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Make one mistake and suddenly you just get crossed out, just like that? He had just been holding his gun. It's not like he was going to fire it ever. He had been tempted, of course, but that was nothing. Shit, it really fucking hurt. He wondered who had been the one to shoot him. It was dark, way too dark for him to really make out features and it's not like he had heard the shooter speaking either.
He privately hoped that whoever killed him had done it in self-defense. That he could handle. That was a possibility he was willing to swallow. After all, it felt much better (to him, at least) knowing that you died because someone else had wanted to defend themselves and their friends. That there was a valid justification for it. That he had been registered as a threat. It was much harder to accept that he was going to die just because some asshole wanted to add another tick to the amount of bloodshed on the island. The possibility that was true made him sick to his stomach...although it could just be the blood leaking out of him instead.
'God, this sucks...' Andrew thought to himself. 'I wonder if anyone's going to go through the trouble of burying me...doubt it. Shit...Adrian, I hope you'll be fine. Dammit, I should never have left...'
'I've always wondered what it'd be like to die, but I really was hoping to be older when it happened...dammit. Dammit...I don't want to die...'
His fingers twitched and he could feel his life trickling out of his chest as he somehow, in an inhuman feat of strength, pushed himself to his feet. A hand went to his chest and he winced, pain flaring from the bullet holes that scarred his skin. He bent down, grabbing his gun as he took one step. Another step. He was dying, he knew it. But he had to know. He had to see his killer. Had to get revenge? Maybe. Possibly. He didn't know, he couldn't think too hard about it or else he was certain his head would burst. He staggered forward, looking and feeling like a zombie from one of those horror action flicks.
Another shot rang out in the night, lancing through his shoulder. He barely felt it. It was just another fleeting pain in his dying body. Another one hit him in the leg. He fell to a knee, panting heavily as he looked up and saw...what did he see? A girl...? It looked like a girl, he wasn't sure. But she was scared. And that's all he needed. It wasn't a killer. It wasn't someone just looking to add to his score. She had recognized him as a threat and done the smart thing...ahaha, that was okay. It was his fault...he shouldn't have raised his gun. He felt regret, but at least he hadn't really harmed anyone. He hadn't done anything on the island really...just helped bury a kid. That was good, right? He laughed a bit...felt blood bubbling around his lips.
He fell next to the girl...heard her shriek. As the last of his senses deserted him, he could feel her hands on his shoulder, shaking him. Apologizing...for what, trying to protect herself? He would have laughed again, but he couldn't even manage that. But it was fine. She didn't need to apologize...it was fine...
'Ahaha...if only things really could be that cool...' He thought to himself. He was tired...at least he was going to get the rest he wanted. 'Oh, if only...'
B117 - Andrew Mitchell - Dead
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Make one mistake and suddenly you just get crossed out, just like that? He had just been holding his gun. It's not like he was going to fire it ever. He had been tempted, of course, but that was nothing. Shit, it really fucking hurt. He wondered who had been the one to shoot him. It was dark, way too dark for him to really make out features and it's not like he had heard the shooter speaking either.
He privately hoped that whoever killed him had done it in self-defense. That he could handle. That was a possibility he was willing to swallow. After all, it felt much better (to him, at least) knowing that you died because someone else had wanted to defend themselves and their friends. That there was a valid justification for it. That he had been registered as a threat. It was much harder to accept that he was going to die just because some asshole wanted to add another tick to the amount of bloodshed on the island. The possibility that was true made him sick to his stomach...although it could just be the blood leaking out of him instead.
'God, this sucks...' Andrew thought to himself. 'I wonder if anyone's going to go through the trouble of burying me...doubt it. Shit...Adrian, I hope you'll be fine. Dammit, I should never have left...'
'I've always wondered what it'd be like to die, but I really was hoping to be older when it happened...dammit. Dammit...I don't want to die...'
His fingers twitched and he could feel his life trickling out of his chest as he somehow, in an inhuman feat of strength, pushed himself to his feet. A hand went to his chest and he winced, pain flaring from the bullet holes that scarred his skin. He bent down, grabbing his gun as he took one step. Another step. He was dying, he knew it. But he had to know. He had to see his killer. Had to get revenge? Maybe. Possibly. He didn't know, he couldn't think too hard about it or else he was certain his head would burst. He staggered forward, looking and feeling like a zombie from one of those horror action flicks.
Another shot rang out in the night, lancing through his shoulder. He barely felt it. It was just another fleeting pain in his dying body. Another one hit him in the leg. He fell to a knee, panting heavily as he looked up and saw...what did he see? A girl...? It looked like a girl, he wasn't sure. But she was scared. And that's all he needed. It wasn't a killer. It wasn't someone just looking to add to his score. She had recognized him as a threat and done the smart thing...ahaha, that was okay. It was his fault...he shouldn't have raised his gun. He felt regret, but at least he hadn't really harmed anyone. He hadn't done anything on the island really...just helped bury a kid. That was good, right? He laughed a bit...felt blood bubbling around his lips.
He fell next to the girl...heard her shriek. As the last of his senses deserted him, he could feel her hands on his shoulder, shaking him. Apologizing...for what, trying to protect herself? He would have laughed again, but he couldn't even manage that. But it was fine. She didn't need to apologize...it was fine...
'Ahaha...if only things really could be that cool...' He thought to himself. He was tired...at least he was going to get the rest he wanted. 'Oh, if only...'
B117 - Andrew Mitchell - Dead
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Hollyquin†
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In her head, she'd edit out the grin that cracked across her face as the soon-to-be corpse hit the ground. The cameras wouldn't oblige that, though, and the viewers at home would be drawing their own conclusions.
God knows how convinced Hayley was at that point of her own sanity.
But she'd done it. Somehow a few of those shots she'd squeezed off had actually hit their intended target, and now their intended target was maybe thirty seconds from bleeding out. In Hayley's eyes the most important bit was that he was no longer leveling a pistol at her- the gun fell out of the boy's hand and hit the ground next to him, and her first coherent thought after seeing the gun pointed in her direction was her hoping the boy's blood wouldn't fuck up the gun. This whole guarding Ema thing would be a hell of a lot easier if I got her a goddamn pistol, that sword's badass and everything but if we're gonna be having guns pointed at-
She shook that out of her system. Took a deep breath.
A giggle slipped between her lips.
I...did it. I did it. I kept my promise.
Hayley looked down at Ema, who had in fact stayed down and was now looking up at her with something like worry on her face, and for her sake she tried to suppress her glee. After all, it wasn't a killing-people-is-great-fun sort of glee, no, she wasn't evil, she wasn't a bad person. She wasn't. The giggling was probably bad but she wasn't happy to be killing people. She was happy because Ema was alive and because she'd won- yet again victory was the easiest pill to swallow and she'd take it gladly. She was happy because she was doing what she'd set out from those woods to do. She'd protected Ema.
She was going to keep telling herself these things because that would make them true.
"He was pointing a gun at me," Hayley offered Ema as means of explanation, not that she really should need to explain, considering that she'd already shot the crap out of two people for no real reason whatsoever. But whatever, every death I can actually justify is good for my not-going-to-hell account, yeah? ...Actually I was probably going to hell before I got here. So you know, there's that for making me feel better. Good thing I'm agnostic. ...Why am I making excuses again?
Whatever.
She shook her head and gave a half smile (keep on with the not looking like a psychopath, honeybee) to Ema- "Cause I was in desperate need for an excuse, obviously. Look on the bright side, you get a gun now!" Yeah her voice was definitely too far on the happy side. God, too much crazy in her system today. "...Stay here a sec, okay? Might be someone else with him."
Those fears were unfounded, though, given that no one stepped out of the woods (or the goddamn tunnel) to shoot her in the face. She made her way over to the boy- she couldn't think corpse, as she could see his chest still rising- and picked up the gun, cringing at the blood on it. She wiped it on her jacket until it seemed decent, though she couldn't know if it could actually fire without testing it first. She looked down at dying Andrew and looked away immediately. His corpse was...way too familiar. The bullet holes were...
Stop.
"Sorry, kid," she said quietly to the boy without looking at him. Really, in another life, where they didn't have guns and shit, they could've totally been friends. Probably. Not that that mattered all that much. Her peripheral vision noted that his chest had stopped rising, and she called to Ema-
"All clear. You're gonna want this, I'm thinking."
God knows how convinced Hayley was at that point of her own sanity.
But she'd done it. Somehow a few of those shots she'd squeezed off had actually hit their intended target, and now their intended target was maybe thirty seconds from bleeding out. In Hayley's eyes the most important bit was that he was no longer leveling a pistol at her- the gun fell out of the boy's hand and hit the ground next to him, and her first coherent thought after seeing the gun pointed in her direction was her hoping the boy's blood wouldn't fuck up the gun. This whole guarding Ema thing would be a hell of a lot easier if I got her a goddamn pistol, that sword's badass and everything but if we're gonna be having guns pointed at-
She shook that out of her system. Took a deep breath.
A giggle slipped between her lips.
I...did it. I did it. I kept my promise.
Hayley looked down at Ema, who had in fact stayed down and was now looking up at her with something like worry on her face, and for her sake she tried to suppress her glee. After all, it wasn't a killing-people-is-great-fun sort of glee, no, she wasn't evil, she wasn't a bad person. She wasn't. The giggling was probably bad but she wasn't happy to be killing people. She was happy because Ema was alive and because she'd won- yet again victory was the easiest pill to swallow and she'd take it gladly. She was happy because she was doing what she'd set out from those woods to do. She'd protected Ema.
She was going to keep telling herself these things because that would make them true.
"He was pointing a gun at me," Hayley offered Ema as means of explanation, not that she really should need to explain, considering that she'd already shot the crap out of two people for no real reason whatsoever. But whatever, every death I can actually justify is good for my not-going-to-hell account, yeah? ...Actually I was probably going to hell before I got here. So you know, there's that for making me feel better. Good thing I'm agnostic. ...Why am I making excuses again?
Whatever.
She shook her head and gave a half smile (keep on with the not looking like a psychopath, honeybee) to Ema- "Cause I was in desperate need for an excuse, obviously. Look on the bright side, you get a gun now!" Yeah her voice was definitely too far on the happy side. God, too much crazy in her system today. "...Stay here a sec, okay? Might be someone else with him."
Those fears were unfounded, though, given that no one stepped out of the woods (or the goddamn tunnel) to shoot her in the face. She made her way over to the boy- she couldn't think corpse, as she could see his chest still rising- and picked up the gun, cringing at the blood on it. She wiped it on her jacket until it seemed decent, though she couldn't know if it could actually fire without testing it first. She looked down at dying Andrew and looked away immediately. His corpse was...way too familiar. The bullet holes were...
Stop.
"Sorry, kid," she said quietly to the boy without looking at him. Really, in another life, where they didn't have guns and shit, they could've totally been friends. Probably. Not that that mattered all that much. Her peripheral vision noted that his chest had stopped rising, and she called to Ema-
"All clear. You're gonna want this, I'm thinking."
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A dull thud followed soon after the gunfire, the natural progression of bullets to casualty. Then shuffling, he was still alive, still moving? If so, the boy was hardly in any condition to retaliate. If he'd been hit and fallen, he was definitely on his way out anyway, just prolonging the inevitable. If not, then it was Hayley going to check on the body. Either way, Ema had her sword, she gripped it tight, and she didn't leave her hiding place. Then there was another thud, the poor child must've bitten the proverbial dust by now. Ema felt sorry for him; being shot dead was one thing, but it could at least have been quick.
"He was pointing a gun at me,"
That made her feel better about it. Pointing a gun and what had probably looked to him like two small, unarmed girls? Deserved it. Besides, someone else probably would've done worse to him later on, if Hayley hadn't gotten in first. Better to die at least moderately quickly than be bludgeoned to death with a stick or something.
"Cause I was in desperate need for an excuse, obviously. Look on the bright side, you get a gun now!"
Still, the pleasure evident in Hayley's voice was a little bit unnerving. Defending two duo and surviving until the end was supposed to be something she was forced into, not something fun. On the bright side though, Ema did indeed get her very own gun. Welcome back, feeling of godly power over life and death, I missed you dearly. Feeling dangerously complacent in that new safety, she stepped out from behind the tree, started to make her way over.
"...Stay here a sec, okay? Might be someone else with him."
Shitshitshit good point there might be go back to the safe place. Ema took cover behind another tree, closer to Hayley and the late Andrew. Staying safe was all well and good, but staying close would be a lot more useful if they were flanked.
Flanked? When did I become Captain Price?
But the danger was only theoretical, nobody emerged from the trees to avenge the death, no banzai charge or hail of bullets. Another kill they'd gotten away with scot free. That is, assuming Kyle's death didn't count as karma for the previous four.
"All clear. You're gonna want this, I'm thinking."
Again, Ema broke cover breaking cover? I really have played too much CoD, and came forward, this time all the way to Andrew's fallen body. She couldn't help but notice that he looked almost peaceful, like he was just asleep. The sightless eyes kind of ruined the image, though, although Ema didn't have the heart to close them. Just seeing the corpse made her a little uneasy, touching him it was out of the question.
His gun lay on the floor, a few feet away. He must have dropped it just after he was hit. Never had a chance, if that was the case. Ema picked it up in her left hand, still not letting go of her sword. It was an odd thing, very sleek and curvy, more like something out of Mass Effect than a modern day factory. Probably for the best, though, it wouldn't be much good if an angular edge caught against something when she was trying to pull it out. Ema intended to eject the magazine and check if it was loaded or not, if a round was even chambered. She intended to, but the weapon - "Vektor", according to the engraving - was unlike any pistol she'd come across in her virtual escapades, and she could only guess how to do anything besides pull the trigger. Hang on...
"Shouldn't there be a manual for this?"
Ema went for the boy's daypack, rooted through it. First of all, she grabbed what was left of the rations and set them aside, then found the instructions for her brand new Vector CP1. She skimmed through it, ignoring everything besides the safety, loading it, and firing it. Looking back at the funny-shaped weapon after what she'd read, it did seem awfully intuitive after all. With that done, Ema transferred the new supplies and the manual to her own daypack, put the handgun in her inside pocket, grabbed her sword, and turned back to Hayley. One-track-mind mode over, her speech reverted to awkward; "So... back to wandering around, I guess?" She glanced down at her bag, and made an executive decision. "And, uh, do you want some chocolate?"
"He was pointing a gun at me,"
That made her feel better about it. Pointing a gun and what had probably looked to him like two small, unarmed girls? Deserved it. Besides, someone else probably would've done worse to him later on, if Hayley hadn't gotten in first. Better to die at least moderately quickly than be bludgeoned to death with a stick or something.
"Cause I was in desperate need for an excuse, obviously. Look on the bright side, you get a gun now!"
Still, the pleasure evident in Hayley's voice was a little bit unnerving. Defending two duo and surviving until the end was supposed to be something she was forced into, not something fun. On the bright side though, Ema did indeed get her very own gun. Welcome back, feeling of godly power over life and death, I missed you dearly. Feeling dangerously complacent in that new safety, she stepped out from behind the tree, started to make her way over.
"...Stay here a sec, okay? Might be someone else with him."
Shitshitshit good point there might be go back to the safe place. Ema took cover behind another tree, closer to Hayley and the late Andrew. Staying safe was all well and good, but staying close would be a lot more useful if they were flanked.
Flanked? When did I become Captain Price?
But the danger was only theoretical, nobody emerged from the trees to avenge the death, no banzai charge or hail of bullets. Another kill they'd gotten away with scot free. That is, assuming Kyle's death didn't count as karma for the previous four.
"All clear. You're gonna want this, I'm thinking."
Again, Ema broke cover breaking cover? I really have played too much CoD, and came forward, this time all the way to Andrew's fallen body. She couldn't help but notice that he looked almost peaceful, like he was just asleep. The sightless eyes kind of ruined the image, though, although Ema didn't have the heart to close them. Just seeing the corpse made her a little uneasy, touching him it was out of the question.
His gun lay on the floor, a few feet away. He must have dropped it just after he was hit. Never had a chance, if that was the case. Ema picked it up in her left hand, still not letting go of her sword. It was an odd thing, very sleek and curvy, more like something out of Mass Effect than a modern day factory. Probably for the best, though, it wouldn't be much good if an angular edge caught against something when she was trying to pull it out. Ema intended to eject the magazine and check if it was loaded or not, if a round was even chambered. She intended to, but the weapon - "Vektor", according to the engraving - was unlike any pistol she'd come across in her virtual escapades, and she could only guess how to do anything besides pull the trigger. Hang on...
"Shouldn't there be a manual for this?"
Ema went for the boy's daypack, rooted through it. First of all, she grabbed what was left of the rations and set them aside, then found the instructions for her brand new Vector CP1. She skimmed through it, ignoring everything besides the safety, loading it, and firing it. Looking back at the funny-shaped weapon after what she'd read, it did seem awfully intuitive after all. With that done, Ema transferred the new supplies and the manual to her own daypack, put the handgun in her inside pocket, grabbed her sword, and turned back to Hayley. One-track-mind mode over, her speech reverted to awkward; "So... back to wandering around, I guess?" She glanced down at her bag, and made an executive decision. "And, uh, do you want some chocolate?"
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"Shouldn't there be a manual for this?"
"...Dude. That is a raygun. You are holding a raygun. Until I see you actually shoot a bullet outta that thing I'm gonna assume it shoots lasers or some shit." Hayley laughed as Ema did indeed locate the gun's manual in Andrew's the dead boy's daypack. The fucking thing did look way too much like a raygun to be real. I'd be jealous except Vera is approximately ten thousand times more badass looking. How cool would it be dying by fucking RAYGUN, though? Like, imagine Danya on the announcements. HAYLEY KELLY KILLED BY NON-RETARDED STORMTROOPER. Fuck yeah.
...This probably isn't healthy. This whole getting-over-your-dead-boyfriend-in-like-six-hours thing. This whole inability to keep her mind focused on anything serious thing. This whole continued denial thing, in other words. Yeah, her therapist would want to have a few words with her right about now, not that she was ever seeing her therapist again probably. She had the very strong urge to light another cigarette and managed to resist, instead biting her lip and reopening the scabbed-over wound where she'd bitten her lip before. Awesome. She became infinitely aware of the claw marks on her sides, and suddenly really wanted a shirt.
Fuck it. She lit the cigarette. She was probably going to get blood all over it. Attractive.
"So... back to wandering around, I guess?"
"A little late for that, yeah?" Hayley looked up- yeah, it wasn't her imagination saying it was gonna be dark real soon. The sun was dipping dangerously low in the sky and Hayley, for her part, had no desire to sleep in the woods, again. "We've gotta hustle if we want an actual place to sleep. The mansion's pretty near here, actually, and we might as fucking well. Might as well hole up somewhere classy..." We'll probably never get the chance again, she didn't say. That was pretty obvious.
"And, uh, do you want some chocolate?"
"Are you kidding? Oh Jesus Christ yes I want chocolate."
And Hayley took the chocolate.
So that, at least, was normal.
Gnawing at it like an eager squirrel, Hayley found her eyes wandering down to Andrew's the dead boy's body. She focused on his face, since as long as she kept her eyes off the bullet wounds, it was easy since the boy didn't bear any other real resemblance to Kyle Portman her dead boyfriend who she may or may not have loved. His eyes were still open, that was kind of creepy, but her only real thoughts were he really was pretty cute and too bad. There was no regret, or revulsion, either. Certainly it didn't affect her appetite, though that may have been more because nothing could tear Hayley Kelly away from chocolate. Hayley really liked chocolate.
I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about this shit anymore. Pretty sure I'm supposed to feel a little more than nothing, though.
Alternating tiny bites of her chocolate and slow inhales of nicotine, she managed to feel nothing, at least for a little while longer. That was okay. Not feeling anything would be okay. Not feeling anything would be better than panicking, or crying, or freaking out, again. Not feeling anything would keep Ema alive. Viva la relative apathy?
With a quick look at her map and her compass, she waved Ema forward, setting a course towards the mansion.
"You mind if I borrow one of your shirts? It's getting kinda cold-like."
There was quite a lot boiling beneath Hayley's surface, but it could wait until she was dead.
[[Hayley Kelly continued in The Guilty Ones]]
"...Dude. That is a raygun. You are holding a raygun. Until I see you actually shoot a bullet outta that thing I'm gonna assume it shoots lasers or some shit." Hayley laughed as Ema did indeed locate the gun's manual in Andrew's the dead boy's daypack. The fucking thing did look way too much like a raygun to be real. I'd be jealous except Vera is approximately ten thousand times more badass looking. How cool would it be dying by fucking RAYGUN, though? Like, imagine Danya on the announcements. HAYLEY KELLY KILLED BY NON-RETARDED STORMTROOPER. Fuck yeah.
...This probably isn't healthy. This whole getting-over-your-dead-boyfriend-in-like-six-hours thing. This whole inability to keep her mind focused on anything serious thing. This whole continued denial thing, in other words. Yeah, her therapist would want to have a few words with her right about now, not that she was ever seeing her therapist again probably. She had the very strong urge to light another cigarette and managed to resist, instead biting her lip and reopening the scabbed-over wound where she'd bitten her lip before. Awesome. She became infinitely aware of the claw marks on her sides, and suddenly really wanted a shirt.
Fuck it. She lit the cigarette. She was probably going to get blood all over it. Attractive.
"So... back to wandering around, I guess?"
"A little late for that, yeah?" Hayley looked up- yeah, it wasn't her imagination saying it was gonna be dark real soon. The sun was dipping dangerously low in the sky and Hayley, for her part, had no desire to sleep in the woods, again. "We've gotta hustle if we want an actual place to sleep. The mansion's pretty near here, actually, and we might as fucking well. Might as well hole up somewhere classy..." We'll probably never get the chance again, she didn't say. That was pretty obvious.
"And, uh, do you want some chocolate?"
"Are you kidding? Oh Jesus Christ yes I want chocolate."
And Hayley took the chocolate.
So that, at least, was normal.
Gnawing at it like an eager squirrel, Hayley found her eyes wandering down to Andrew's the dead boy's body. She focused on his face, since as long as she kept her eyes off the bullet wounds, it was easy since the boy didn't bear any other real resemblance to Kyle Portman her dead boyfriend who she may or may not have loved. His eyes were still open, that was kind of creepy, but her only real thoughts were he really was pretty cute and too bad. There was no regret, or revulsion, either. Certainly it didn't affect her appetite, though that may have been more because nothing could tear Hayley Kelly away from chocolate. Hayley really liked chocolate.
I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about this shit anymore. Pretty sure I'm supposed to feel a little more than nothing, though.
Alternating tiny bites of her chocolate and slow inhales of nicotine, she managed to feel nothing, at least for a little while longer. That was okay. Not feeling anything would be okay. Not feeling anything would be better than panicking, or crying, or freaking out, again. Not feeling anything would keep Ema alive. Viva la relative apathy?
With a quick look at her map and her compass, she waved Ema forward, setting a course towards the mansion.
"You mind if I borrow one of your shirts? It's getting kinda cold-like."
There was quite a lot boiling beneath Hayley's surface, but it could wait until she was dead.
[[Hayley Kelly continued in The Guilty Ones]]
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Apparently it wasn't just Ema that was feeling a certain level of whimsy about the space-age look her new gun had. Hayley seemed convinced, or at least, that contemporary kind of fake-convinced, that the Vektor was a laser gun, and professed she wouldn't believe otherwise until it fired a solid bullet. Having by then checked the magazine and ensured such a bullet was chambered, just in case, Ema herself was already quite certain it was just a design to minimise the chance of it snagging on anything, and maybe to make it easier to conceal. It was certainly compact enough to be designed for hiding, and wasn't shaped like something you'd immediately think was a real firearm.
All the better for Surviving as the Fittest.
The comment about continuing to wander aimlessly was met predictably, at least with regards to tone. It had been kind of... pessimistic, at best. But the words were less predictable. With her hood up for so long, blocking the irritating rays of sunlight, Ema had barely registered that that same sun was on its way towards the horizon in the west, and evening darkness had already descended on the island. The entire area was getting dark, how had she not noticed? Anyway, the Mansion sounded appealing, provided it wasn't already occupied. If it was, chances were the students there would be understandably territorial about the place. Comfort and stronghold-potential was nothing to give up lightly.
Regardless, she fished through her bag, pulled out a couple of chocolate bars. She'd been keeping them especially for something not unlike this, the last two that she hadn't eaten soon after discovering the stash in her backpack days ago. The original intention was for the unlikely event she'd have a chance to look through her stuff whilst in the process of dying, but... screw it, that was a morbid plan anyway, and comforting someone whose boyfriend had just been shot was just as legitimate a reason anyway. Hayley was quick to grab one, a little unsettlingly so. But Ema didn't blame her, given everything that had happened that day. A death, a kill, lots of tiring walking, it all added up to the perfect chocolate-craving storm.
And that was a weird choice of phrasing.
"You mind if I borrow one of your shirts? It's getting kinda cold-like."
Yes, less getting lost in thought about chocolate, more paying attention to the actual issues of the now. Having already gotten used to Hayley being in her underwear once before, the sight of her wandering around with only a jacket over her bra wasn't particularly abnormal to Ema, and she'd scarcely thought about it since the other girl had dumped her shirt in the first place. Her bag was still open anyway, so it didn't take Ema long to find any random top - a Placebo tour shirt, for what little it mattered any more - and throwing it to Hayley.
With that, they were off. Off to that house Ema had only seen from a distance before, off with the hope of spending the night in comfort, without having to fight for it.
Because fighting to the death over a bed to sleep in, that's normal now.
[Ema Ryan --> The Guilty Ones]
All the better for Surviving as the Fittest.
The comment about continuing to wander aimlessly was met predictably, at least with regards to tone. It had been kind of... pessimistic, at best. But the words were less predictable. With her hood up for so long, blocking the irritating rays of sunlight, Ema had barely registered that that same sun was on its way towards the horizon in the west, and evening darkness had already descended on the island. The entire area was getting dark, how had she not noticed? Anyway, the Mansion sounded appealing, provided it wasn't already occupied. If it was, chances were the students there would be understandably territorial about the place. Comfort and stronghold-potential was nothing to give up lightly.
Regardless, she fished through her bag, pulled out a couple of chocolate bars. She'd been keeping them especially for something not unlike this, the last two that she hadn't eaten soon after discovering the stash in her backpack days ago. The original intention was for the unlikely event she'd have a chance to look through her stuff whilst in the process of dying, but... screw it, that was a morbid plan anyway, and comforting someone whose boyfriend had just been shot was just as legitimate a reason anyway. Hayley was quick to grab one, a little unsettlingly so. But Ema didn't blame her, given everything that had happened that day. A death, a kill, lots of tiring walking, it all added up to the perfect chocolate-craving storm.
And that was a weird choice of phrasing.
"You mind if I borrow one of your shirts? It's getting kinda cold-like."
Yes, less getting lost in thought about chocolate, more paying attention to the actual issues of the now. Having already gotten used to Hayley being in her underwear once before, the sight of her wandering around with only a jacket over her bra wasn't particularly abnormal to Ema, and she'd scarcely thought about it since the other girl had dumped her shirt in the first place. Her bag was still open anyway, so it didn't take Ema long to find any random top - a Placebo tour shirt, for what little it mattered any more - and throwing it to Hayley.
With that, they were off. Off to that house Ema had only seen from a distance before, off with the hope of spending the night in comfort, without having to fight for it.
Because fighting to the death over a bed to sleep in, that's normal now.
[Ema Ryan --> The Guilty Ones]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.