((Lillian Hayes continued from When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open))
Lily did her best to follow Aaron - she really did - but there was only so much that her body could do. She didn't see how it was possible that Aaron ran as fast as he did. Was there a fire burning inside of him, something that kept him awake and alert for days on end, ready to implement his plan come hell or high water? Did he hold himself to a high standard, making him look down on his allies when they couldn't keep up with him?
Whatever the truth was, Lily found herself failing Aaron again. As she ran away from the nascent danger zone, she had to keep herself from stumbling more and more. Her vision went hazy and unfocused, and by the time she forced it to correct itself again, Aaron was farther and farther into the distance. By the fifth time it happened, Aaron was gone completely. She took a moment to pause, looking around, and wondering where Aaron went.
Lily didn't want to get separated from Aaron. She wanted to do her best to help him with his plan, to prove that she could help people escape this place. She just guessed that he was going in the same direction he was before, and kept on going, making herself go fast enough that she didn't drop right there.
Gradually, though, she started to veer away from where Aaron ultimately went. Both of them made their way west, but while Aaron went south, into the Coastal Woods, Lily went north, the gulf between their trails dividing more with each passing minute. Soon, Lily found herself coming to the boundary between zones as the ground grew softer with each step. It wasn't long before she came across a thick layer of water covering it as far as her eye could see, itself covered by a scummy layer of algae.
She frowned and stopped before the water submerged her boots by more than an inch or so. She didn't feel it against her bare skin yet, but she would if she pressed on. The boots were a present from her parents, a utilitarian gift for the senior camping trip. They proved useful, but right now she wished she wore waders instead. Not that anyone could have foreseen her needing them.
Ultimately she decided to keep going, carefully stepping through the water and trying to keep her boots from getting stuck. Staying dry was futile; her shoelaces and socks and feet were soaked in seconds. The water ended up reaching up to her knees before she leaned against the nearest tree. Aaron was gone, and she'd never find him again.
The revelation hit her hard, hard enough to elicit a choked sob from her. She had so much riding on an escape plan that she didn't want to think of what she would have to do without it. The only other options, when all was said and done, were to die or commit murder. Lily never wanted to come within spitting distance of either, so she jumped at the first person with plans to escape. Now he was gone for good, and she knew that she wouldn't be missed at all.
She forced herself to stifle a yawn as she thought of what else she could do. Nothing came to her for a while, until a bolt from the blue struck her. Before Rob Jenkins came and disturbed them, she saw the plan that Aaron had outlined to Aileen! She could easily carry out that plan herself, or at least try! Now all she
mmmf
all she needed
to do was find
a camera
She tried her best to look around but by now her fatigue weighed down on her like a sack of pudding. Realizing she didn't have enough time to find a camera, she looked around for a place to rest, finding it in a hollow tree stump. The wood inside was damp to the touch, but she managed to sit down and curl herself up. Satisfied with her new bed, she finally allowed herself to rest, falling asleep in seconds. Her head slumped forward, lying between her knees, as Lily had one of the worst nights of sleep in her life.
You Don't Have to Do This
Private between Lily and Rob
You Don't Have to Do This
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
((Robert Jenkins continued from When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open))
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Come on, Come on, where did that fucker go?
Words couldn't describe how much Rob was pissed off at that point. Being simply annoying like Milo Taylor was one thing (although Rob still regretted, that he didn't punch him once or twice for good measure), but shooting him? Oh no... Whoever was that nerdy guy, he crossed the line. Rob was going to find him, beat the living shit out of him, and then put a bullet between his eyes.
His plan was far from working, though. As the Irishman was running through the forest, his bad orientation in terrain played a trick on him again, and soon enough, Rob entered the marshlands. Due to the large amount of dangerous things to step on, Rob had to slow down his pace, while gradually losing his strength to go further, in large part thanks to the still-hurting chest from two bullets stopped by the vest.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Finally, after ten more minutes of pursuit, as Rob realized he was completely alone, and the nerd had to run the other way, he fell on his knees, and supported the rest of his body with his hands (one of them still holding the pistol), now dirty from the mud.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huf-
As Rob tried to control his breath, he suddenly started coughing so much, he felt he was going to threw up his lungs outside of the body. Normally, he would be mad at himself for having bad condition, but right now, the giant was more preoccupied with being angry at the entire world, and one little nerd in particular. When the coughing finally stopped, Rob took another few deep breaths, before letting out his feelings to the world by smashing the murky ground with his left hand making a loud splash sound, and roaring toward the morning sky.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Come on, Come on, where did that fucker go?
Words couldn't describe how much Rob was pissed off at that point. Being simply annoying like Milo Taylor was one thing (although Rob still regretted, that he didn't punch him once or twice for good measure), but shooting him? Oh no... Whoever was that nerdy guy, he crossed the line. Rob was going to find him, beat the living shit out of him, and then put a bullet between his eyes.
His plan was far from working, though. As the Irishman was running through the forest, his bad orientation in terrain played a trick on him again, and soon enough, Rob entered the marshlands. Due to the large amount of dangerous things to step on, Rob had to slow down his pace, while gradually losing his strength to go further, in large part thanks to the still-hurting chest from two bullets stopped by the vest.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Finally, after ten more minutes of pursuit, as Rob realized he was completely alone, and the nerd had to run the other way, he fell on his knees, and supported the rest of his body with his hands (one of them still holding the pistol), now dirty from the mud.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huf-
As Rob tried to control his breath, he suddenly started coughing so much, he felt he was going to threw up his lungs outside of the body. Normally, he would be mad at himself for having bad condition, but right now, the giant was more preoccupied with being angry at the entire world, and one little nerd in particular. When the coughing finally stopped, Rob took another few deep breaths, before letting out his feelings to the world by smashing the murky ground with his left hand making a loud splash sound, and roaring toward the morning sky.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
When Lily was still in high school, not long before her abduction, she worked at a soup kitchen in her local church. Her job was to provide aid and succor to the unfortunate of the city, those who found themselves without homes or much else besides the clothes on their back. Some of them had turned to drugs to dull the pain and despair of their existence, and one of the worst cases that Lily saw was Leonard Wise.
The first time she met him, Leonard was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He confessed to Lily that he was considering suicide, and of course Lily did her best to discourage him. Over the weeks that he came to the kitchen, the two of them slowly began to open up to each other. Soon his life began to improve. He went through a rehabilitation program to quit heroin and cleaned himself up enough to start seeking gainful employment.
Then, a month before Lily's graduation, Leonard's body was found with an entry wound in his temple. He had nothing of any value left on his person, nor any shoes on his feet. Lily never found out who killed him; it didn't matter. She became noticeably gloomy, at home and school and church, until she finally confided in Reverend Freamon.
Nothing less than her faith in God and Christ was on the line, and instead of giving her an easy answer, the Reverend related a similar tale of loss and futility, from his time ministering to the dying in a hospital. The girl he ministered to was a young woman, scarcely out of college, bedridden after she developed breast cancer. All of his knowledge of scripture was brushed away by the woman's simple concerns, concerns about whether or not God would save her from death or take her to heaven. In the end, all she wanted was to live long enough to see a video of her sister's high school graduation. She didn't even get that, passing away three days before the event.
The experience had shaken the Reverend just as Lily's did to her, and his faith almost didn't survive. It was a while before he returned to the religious life, and he never quite approached it the same way again. The truth he told Lily was simple, that he couldn't save her faith for her. If she stopped believing, she stopped, and she was no less of a person for it. If she didn't, she would have to accept that sometimes tragedy would strike without rhyme or reason, and she would have to persevere through it and change the way she thought of Christianity.
It wasn't the answer she expected, but eventually her grief did subside, and she brightened back up to her normal self. She resolved to do the best she could to help others, as the Lord wanted of her, and if her best efforts came to nothing, it would be hard to get over it, but not impossible. She anticipated tragedies like Leonard Wise, or that girl in the cancer ward. She didn't anticipate something on the scale of Survival of the Fittest.
She was lucky enough to find Aaron Hughes, a man with a plan to escape. She practically threw himself at his feet; he was a sign from above, a purpose for her in this time of crisis. If she could help to save any of these students' lives by helping Aaron in his escape attempt, she would be eternally grateful that she could make a difference. The details of Aaron's plan, when he finally shared them, only encouraged her. It would be worth all of the hostile glances from him, all of the times Aaron ignored her on their journey
So she thought until Aaron shot a boy with barely any provocation. All the other boy did was make a tasteless joke and keep his gun. He didn't even try to use it. Lily should have spoken up, should have pushed Aaron out of the way. Now Aaron was a murderer, and nobody else would ever trust them. No one would be saved.
The nightmares that Lily had in the swamp were too indistinct to describe in detail, though Aaron was easily the most prominent figure in them. Aaron used her as a human shield. Aaron disabled the generators on the island. Aaron sent her to distract someone and ran away. Aaron smiled and congratulated everyone on their hard work. Aaron got a new weapon and killed another stranger in cold blood. Aaron led an uprising against the terrorists and commandeered their boats. Aaron became the last student on the island along with Lily and promptly blew her head off. Aaron navigated a course home for the bereaved suvivors.
Aaron did many things in her dreams, none of them consistent. When she was awoken by the bloodcurdling scream of another boy, all fantasies of Aaron faded away. When the announcements screeched into being twenty seconds later, she was too busy stretching and banishing the last remnants of her fatigue.
That's when she met the eyes of a ghost. She froze under the gaze of Rob Jenkins, baffled at his appearance. Then she noticed that he hadn't bled a single drop. Nothing but his clothing had been damaged.
Suddenly Aaron didn't seem like much of a concern anymore.
The first time she met him, Leonard was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He confessed to Lily that he was considering suicide, and of course Lily did her best to discourage him. Over the weeks that he came to the kitchen, the two of them slowly began to open up to each other. Soon his life began to improve. He went through a rehabilitation program to quit heroin and cleaned himself up enough to start seeking gainful employment.
Then, a month before Lily's graduation, Leonard's body was found with an entry wound in his temple. He had nothing of any value left on his person, nor any shoes on his feet. Lily never found out who killed him; it didn't matter. She became noticeably gloomy, at home and school and church, until she finally confided in Reverend Freamon.
Nothing less than her faith in God and Christ was on the line, and instead of giving her an easy answer, the Reverend related a similar tale of loss and futility, from his time ministering to the dying in a hospital. The girl he ministered to was a young woman, scarcely out of college, bedridden after she developed breast cancer. All of his knowledge of scripture was brushed away by the woman's simple concerns, concerns about whether or not God would save her from death or take her to heaven. In the end, all she wanted was to live long enough to see a video of her sister's high school graduation. She didn't even get that, passing away three days before the event.
The experience had shaken the Reverend just as Lily's did to her, and his faith almost didn't survive. It was a while before he returned to the religious life, and he never quite approached it the same way again. The truth he told Lily was simple, that he couldn't save her faith for her. If she stopped believing, she stopped, and she was no less of a person for it. If she didn't, she would have to accept that sometimes tragedy would strike without rhyme or reason, and she would have to persevere through it and change the way she thought of Christianity.
It wasn't the answer she expected, but eventually her grief did subside, and she brightened back up to her normal self. She resolved to do the best she could to help others, as the Lord wanted of her, and if her best efforts came to nothing, it would be hard to get over it, but not impossible. She anticipated tragedies like Leonard Wise, or that girl in the cancer ward. She didn't anticipate something on the scale of Survival of the Fittest.
She was lucky enough to find Aaron Hughes, a man with a plan to escape. She practically threw himself at his feet; he was a sign from above, a purpose for her in this time of crisis. If she could help to save any of these students' lives by helping Aaron in his escape attempt, she would be eternally grateful that she could make a difference. The details of Aaron's plan, when he finally shared them, only encouraged her. It would be worth all of the hostile glances from him, all of the times Aaron ignored her on their journey
So she thought until Aaron shot a boy with barely any provocation. All the other boy did was make a tasteless joke and keep his gun. He didn't even try to use it. Lily should have spoken up, should have pushed Aaron out of the way. Now Aaron was a murderer, and nobody else would ever trust them. No one would be saved.
The nightmares that Lily had in the swamp were too indistinct to describe in detail, though Aaron was easily the most prominent figure in them. Aaron used her as a human shield. Aaron disabled the generators on the island. Aaron sent her to distract someone and ran away. Aaron smiled and congratulated everyone on their hard work. Aaron got a new weapon and killed another stranger in cold blood. Aaron led an uprising against the terrorists and commandeered their boats. Aaron became the last student on the island along with Lily and promptly blew her head off. Aaron navigated a course home for the bereaved suvivors.
Aaron did many things in her dreams, none of them consistent. When she was awoken by the bloodcurdling scream of another boy, all fantasies of Aaron faded away. When the announcements screeched into being twenty seconds later, she was too busy stretching and banishing the last remnants of her fatigue.
That's when she met the eyes of a ghost. She froze under the gaze of Rob Jenkins, baffled at his appearance. Then she noticed that he hadn't bled a single drop. Nothing but his clothing had been damaged.
Suddenly Aaron didn't seem like much of a concern anymore.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Seconds and minutes passed slowly, as Rob Jenkins still tried to regulate his breath, as well as his thoughts inside his head.
Okay... Okay... Calm down Rob... Just calm the fuck do-
NO! No, goddamit! There's no reason to calm down. That fucker... He played me like a little bitch, and shoot me while I stood there, just asking for it... No one ever humiliated me like that, since... Since...
----
7-year-old Rob watched from the sidelines, as the group of black kids played a game of basketball on the mini court, about three streets away from his neighborhood. It wasn't the first time for him, of course. He used to stare at them for hours, ever since he saw Michael Jordan rally the Bulls to beat the Jazz a few months ago, even despite the horrible flu he had at the time. Rob always dreamed of becoming someone like that. Someone, who can do the impossible. Someone, who won't falter before even the most difficult task. A hero, cherished by the millions.
But as he stood there, he realized for the first time in his life, he won't become another Michael Jordan, unless he'll practice hard. And as soon as he'll start playing, the better. And so, little Rob managed to gather just enough courage and confidence to step on the court, and speak to the players.
"H-hey guys! Can I join?"
Suddenly, the ball stopped, and so did everyone gathered. A group of six black kids looked at each other and exchanged a few words quietly, before one of them, apparently the leader of the pack, decided to speak up.
"What's your problem, cracker?"
"N-no, I have no problems at all..." Robert replied nervously. "I just wanted to ask you, if I can play wit you guy-"
"Well, guess what? You can't." The leader interrupted Rob, before closing the distance and slightly pushing the redhead. "And now scram, before I'll kick your littl-"
"Hey Jack!" One of the other kids interrupted the 'conversation' this time. "Actually... Why not? Let's give this kid a shot or two. Who knows, maybe he's the next John Stockton?" The boy didn't even try to hide the irony, and everyone (except Rob) immediately started laughing.
"That's not a bad idea, Scotty." Said Jack. "Here, grab the ball and show us what'ya got."
Jack threw the ball to unprepared Rob, and the ball hit the Irishman in the stomach before bouncing back a few inch with an accompaniment of another wave of laughter from the pack. Barely resisting himself from crying, Robert grabbed the ball and slowly approached the basket. Even though it was much lower than the league one, it still look like a mountain for the first-timer. He bounced the ball a few times, before clumsily catching it and releasing a shot. Of course with zero technique and no experience at all, the ball just bounced back from the backboard without even touching the rim, much to the enjoyment of the gang.
Rob caught the ball, and quickly made another shot to shut them up, but it was almost as bad as the first one. Before he could try one more time, Jack grabbed the ball, and decided to finish the comedy.
"Okay, that's enough, kiddo. You can't do shit. And really, even if, it's still not a place for your white little ass, get it? Now get the fuck outta here."
Despite all of the things Jack said, Rob just stood still where he made that last shot. He felt so confused, sad and humiliated, he couldn't force even one muscle to move his feet.
"What, you're deaf, shithead?! Scram!" Jack yelled at Rob before pushing him again, but this time much harder, and the Irishman fell flat on his butt as a result.
As his muscles began to work properly again, Rob stood up silently, turned his back away from the guys, and ran back to his home, while salty tears started puring down on his cheeks. He could still hear the kids laughing happily in the distance.
----
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Fucking negros...
As he finally stood up, the basketball player threw off some of the mud from his hands and knees, before looking around. And then... He noticed her. That one black girl, who was hanging around with the nerd, just came out from the nearby hollow tree. Suddenly, even though he thought it was impossible, the rage inside his body started burning twice as hot. If he could kill with his eyes only, the girl would probably be burnt to crisp by now.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You..."
Rob slowly took the first step toward the girl. And then another one, a little bit faster.
She's so fucking dead...
At this point nothing else mattered for Rob, beside killing that girl. He was pissed as never before, he barely escaped the most embarrassing death possible, and from the hands of a complete loser on the top of that. And now, he stared at the current avatar of that one thing he hated the most in the world - Useless. Fucking. Niggers. Some people would say, that he wasn't thinking straight and is just overreacting, but FUCK THEM! He'll carry out his revenge on the nerd no matter what, and his black companion will be a good starting point. That's right, no more Mr. Jenkins throwing around curses left and right, while everyone can play him as they please. Now everyone who will try to fuck around with him, will have to pay for it.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
He could just use the gun. Point it out at the girl, pull the trigger and that would be it. But no. It wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't feel good. But if he'll beat her up first? Yes, that would certainly make him feel better, just like beating up Jack, two years after they met for the first time.
Suddenly, Rob found another source of strength inside, or rather, he stopped feeling the lack of it. Without any warning, he quickly dashed toward the girl and decided to deliver a powerful jab to the girl's stomach with his only free hand.
*Huff Puff*
Seconds and minutes passed slowly, as Rob Jenkins still tried to regulate his breath, as well as his thoughts inside his head.
Okay... Okay... Calm down Rob... Just calm the fuck do-
NO! No, goddamit! There's no reason to calm down. That fucker... He played me like a little bitch, and shoot me while I stood there, just asking for it... No one ever humiliated me like that, since... Since...
----
7-year-old Rob watched from the sidelines, as the group of black kids played a game of basketball on the mini court, about three streets away from his neighborhood. It wasn't the first time for him, of course. He used to stare at them for hours, ever since he saw Michael Jordan rally the Bulls to beat the Jazz a few months ago, even despite the horrible flu he had at the time. Rob always dreamed of becoming someone like that. Someone, who can do the impossible. Someone, who won't falter before even the most difficult task. A hero, cherished by the millions.
But as he stood there, he realized for the first time in his life, he won't become another Michael Jordan, unless he'll practice hard. And as soon as he'll start playing, the better. And so, little Rob managed to gather just enough courage and confidence to step on the court, and speak to the players.
"H-hey guys! Can I join?"
Suddenly, the ball stopped, and so did everyone gathered. A group of six black kids looked at each other and exchanged a few words quietly, before one of them, apparently the leader of the pack, decided to speak up.
"What's your problem, cracker?"
"N-no, I have no problems at all..." Robert replied nervously. "I just wanted to ask you, if I can play wit you guy-"
"Well, guess what? You can't." The leader interrupted Rob, before closing the distance and slightly pushing the redhead. "And now scram, before I'll kick your littl-"
"Hey Jack!" One of the other kids interrupted the 'conversation' this time. "Actually... Why not? Let's give this kid a shot or two. Who knows, maybe he's the next John Stockton?" The boy didn't even try to hide the irony, and everyone (except Rob) immediately started laughing.
"That's not a bad idea, Scotty." Said Jack. "Here, grab the ball and show us what'ya got."
Jack threw the ball to unprepared Rob, and the ball hit the Irishman in the stomach before bouncing back a few inch with an accompaniment of another wave of laughter from the pack. Barely resisting himself from crying, Robert grabbed the ball and slowly approached the basket. Even though it was much lower than the league one, it still look like a mountain for the first-timer. He bounced the ball a few times, before clumsily catching it and releasing a shot. Of course with zero technique and no experience at all, the ball just bounced back from the backboard without even touching the rim, much to the enjoyment of the gang.
Rob caught the ball, and quickly made another shot to shut them up, but it was almost as bad as the first one. Before he could try one more time, Jack grabbed the ball, and decided to finish the comedy.
"Okay, that's enough, kiddo. You can't do shit. And really, even if, it's still not a place for your white little ass, get it? Now get the fuck outta here."
Despite all of the things Jack said, Rob just stood still where he made that last shot. He felt so confused, sad and humiliated, he couldn't force even one muscle to move his feet.
"What, you're deaf, shithead?! Scram!" Jack yelled at Rob before pushing him again, but this time much harder, and the Irishman fell flat on his butt as a result.
As his muscles began to work properly again, Rob stood up silently, turned his back away from the guys, and ran back to his home, while salty tears started puring down on his cheeks. He could still hear the kids laughing happily in the distance.
----
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Fucking negros...
As he finally stood up, the basketball player threw off some of the mud from his hands and knees, before looking around. And then... He noticed her. That one black girl, who was hanging around with the nerd, just came out from the nearby hollow tree. Suddenly, even though he thought it was impossible, the rage inside his body started burning twice as hot. If he could kill with his eyes only, the girl would probably be burnt to crisp by now.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You..."
Rob slowly took the first step toward the girl. And then another one, a little bit faster.
She's so fucking dead...
At this point nothing else mattered for Rob, beside killing that girl. He was pissed as never before, he barely escaped the most embarrassing death possible, and from the hands of a complete loser on the top of that. And now, he stared at the current avatar of that one thing he hated the most in the world - Useless. Fucking. Niggers. Some people would say, that he wasn't thinking straight and is just overreacting, but FUCK THEM! He'll carry out his revenge on the nerd no matter what, and his black companion will be a good starting point. That's right, no more Mr. Jenkins throwing around curses left and right, while everyone can play him as they please. Now everyone who will try to fuck around with him, will have to pay for it.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
He could just use the gun. Point it out at the girl, pull the trigger and that would be it. But no. It wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't feel good. But if he'll beat her up first? Yes, that would certainly make him feel better, just like beating up Jack, two years after they met for the first time.
Suddenly, Rob found another source of strength inside, or rather, he stopped feeling the lack of it. Without any warning, he quickly dashed toward the girl and decided to deliver a powerful jab to the girl's stomach with his only free hand.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
He glared at Lily, breathing heavily in a way that reminded her of a werewolf movie that she saw when she was a kid. It scared her half to death. She remembered the night afterward, her heart racing, her eyelids forcing themselves open, every shadow in her room looking like a sinister pointed fang. Now she saw a wolf in human form, burning a hole through her with his eyes. She took a step back and gulped. "W-what is it?" she asked, trying to distance herself from him. "I'm so sorry about what Aaron did. I didn't even know that he'd shoot WAH!"
Rob's fist shot at her face like a bullet. She felt the wind it whipped up sweep past her ear as she dodged to the side. Thank god for that gymnastics training! "What's- ah!" she gasped, ducking as he threw another uppercut at him, not losing any momentum from his first blow.
This was bad. He really wanted to hurt her, and she didn't know if she could get away from him unscathed. The blows were sloppy, and if Lily had any sort of martial arts training, she'd be able to dodge them with little effort. But her experience lied with the pommel horse and the parallel bars and the iron cross. So her reflexes proved just barely enough to avoid most of his punches. They were very close calls, though; she could have sworn she felt his knuckles brush against her cheek.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, trying desperately to think of a way out. If only she hadn't entrusted her gun to Aaron, she might be able to run more easily, warn him that Rob wasn't dead. She was starting to think that Aaron didn't deserve enough of her trust to have gotten it from her anyway. He had a plan, he had a damn good plan, but did he really care about using it to save everyone else?
Did Tom Guthrie really die the way Aaron said?
But if not Aaron, then who? Richard? He'd have shot himself in the leg by accident. Tom? The cynic in Lily thought he'd have used it to kill Aaron and take the group over. Aileen? Maybe. Aileen was the only other member of her troupe that Lily really trusted anymore. Hopefully Aaron wouldn't screw her over, too. Hopefully Lily could make it back to them all.
Could she keep it herself? Should she have used it on Rob, even if it was just to threaten him? She didn't know. She had to make do with what she had.
And she had an opportunity now. Rob had just launched a haymaker that left him unbalanced, and Lily managed to duck and push past him. The other athlete's body hit against a nearby tree, causing him to cry out in pain. Now Lily could run away.
......
Now Lily could run away.
But she didn't quite do it. The sound of the impact made her wince, and when she looked at the tree, she thought she could see some red flecks on it. Jesus, did she give him a concussion? Those few crucial seconds she needed to get away were spent with her looking nervously back and forth between his body and freedom.
The decision was made for her quickly. Rob stirred, and Lily tried her best to get moving. She didn't try hard enough. As soon as she turned away and started to take off, a vise-like hand, strengthened by years of dribbling, pulled at her ankle, causing her to fall back down into the swamp.
Her head fell into warm, cloudy, putrid water, and she started struggling blindly, pulling on her leg and trying to free it. Gulps of air came when she could get them, as did sound, sight, and a sense of anything but slimy water oppressing her and the hand pulling her towards certain death.
Rob's fist shot at her face like a bullet. She felt the wind it whipped up sweep past her ear as she dodged to the side. Thank god for that gymnastics training! "What's- ah!" she gasped, ducking as he threw another uppercut at him, not losing any momentum from his first blow.
This was bad. He really wanted to hurt her, and she didn't know if she could get away from him unscathed. The blows were sloppy, and if Lily had any sort of martial arts training, she'd be able to dodge them with little effort. But her experience lied with the pommel horse and the parallel bars and the iron cross. So her reflexes proved just barely enough to avoid most of his punches. They were very close calls, though; she could have sworn she felt his knuckles brush against her cheek.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, trying desperately to think of a way out. If only she hadn't entrusted her gun to Aaron, she might be able to run more easily, warn him that Rob wasn't dead. She was starting to think that Aaron didn't deserve enough of her trust to have gotten it from her anyway. He had a plan, he had a damn good plan, but did he really care about using it to save everyone else?
Did Tom Guthrie really die the way Aaron said?
But if not Aaron, then who? Richard? He'd have shot himself in the leg by accident. Tom? The cynic in Lily thought he'd have used it to kill Aaron and take the group over. Aileen? Maybe. Aileen was the only other member of her troupe that Lily really trusted anymore. Hopefully Aaron wouldn't screw her over, too. Hopefully Lily could make it back to them all.
Could she keep it herself? Should she have used it on Rob, even if it was just to threaten him? She didn't know. She had to make do with what she had.
And she had an opportunity now. Rob had just launched a haymaker that left him unbalanced, and Lily managed to duck and push past him. The other athlete's body hit against a nearby tree, causing him to cry out in pain. Now Lily could run away.
......
Now Lily could run away.
But she didn't quite do it. The sound of the impact made her wince, and when she looked at the tree, she thought she could see some red flecks on it. Jesus, did she give him a concussion? Those few crucial seconds she needed to get away were spent with her looking nervously back and forth between his body and freedom.
The decision was made for her quickly. Rob stirred, and Lily tried her best to get moving. She didn't try hard enough. As soon as she turned away and started to take off, a vise-like hand, strengthened by years of dribbling, pulled at her ankle, causing her to fall back down into the swamp.
Her head fell into warm, cloudy, putrid water, and she started struggling blindly, pulling on her leg and trying to free it. Gulps of air came when she could get them, as did sound, sight, and a sense of anything but slimy water oppressing her and the hand pulling her towards certain death.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
((GMing approved. Also, sorry for a terrible delay. My job completely completely exhausted me during this last week.))
Shit, shit, SHIT!
Rob's tactic to make slow but powerful blows turned out to be the worst one possible. Somehow, the black girl just dodged every single punch he tried to deliver.
God... Damn it... If I only had... A little more... Stren-WHOA!
As he tried make yet punch, the girl cleverly dodged and pushed Rob's unbalanced body to a nearby tree. Rob closed his eyes and hissed, as he hit the stump, and the pain traveled all the way through his back to the brain.
-----
"Ungh!"
12-years old Rob Jenkins couldn't do anything. His hands and legs were firmly held by the group of black kids about his age, while Jack delivered yet another blow to his stomach.
"I thought, I already told you, Jenny. This isn't a world for you."
Another punch, this time to the mouth.
"I thold you thoo..." Rob replied before spitting some of his blood mixed with saliva on the court. "You'll be dead if you'll call me 'Jenny' once aga-
Jack's fist quickly interrupted redhead's sentence.
"Still feeling lucky, huh?"
"No, you're the lucky one. Without your goons, you would be as good as dead. Everyone knows, I can beat your ass in both fist fighting AND basketba-"
Rob was denied to finish once again. Jack gave a quick look at his fist, now painted red from Rob's blood coming out of his mouth and brow.
"Dream on, cracker... You'll never make it. You're just pathetic."
"Not as pathetic, as the guy who fears to show without at least four of his friends." Rob smirked a little, knowing his words will work as the red cape on a bull. Or at least he would smirk, if his face would be able to show any emotions after a brutal beating it received.
Jack continued his series of blows. Stomach, groin, face again. Rob tried to hide his pain as much as he was able to, but it was impossible to shut it completely at that point. At least he didn't scream. Just as he was ready for another shot, yet another black kid appeared to stop the 'fun'.
"Jack! Jack! The cops! They're patrolling the streets. We must go!"
"Thanks, Scotty. Let's go guys!"
And in a matter of seconds, all of the attackers vanished in the night, and Rob fell on the ground. As he finally managed to stand up after a few minutes, he heard a short siren, before two cops approached him.
"Oh my God... Are you okay, boy?"
"I'm fine..." Rob replied slowly. "I'm just fine..."
-----
Rob opened his eyes again, and noticed the girl was still there. She could use that chance she got and escape. Rob would still chase her, but probably wouldn't be able to catch her at this point. Idiot. Looks like the black people will never learn.
Before the girl could make any move away from the basketball player, he quickly grabbed her leg and used her own momentum to make her fall on the mud.
Now I got you...
The giant wasted no time with standing up, and as the girl tried to do the same, Rob hit her in the back twice to convince her, staying down was the smarter option. But he wasn't done yet. As the girl turned face up to him, he used his gun in his hand to smack her a few more times in the face. Finally, as the girl stopped moving on the ground so much, Rob calmed down a bit. It was the end. He won. She was at his mercy. Of course, she wouldn't receive any. He just pointed the barrel of his gun at her head, and started breathing heavily again...
*huff puff*
*huff puff*
For a reason unknown even to himself, Rob let the girl spend those last few seconds of her life to pray to whatever God she believed.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
Rob's tactic to make slow but powerful blows turned out to be the worst one possible. Somehow, the black girl just dodged every single punch he tried to deliver.
God... Damn it... If I only had... A little more... Stren-WHOA!
As he tried make yet punch, the girl cleverly dodged and pushed Rob's unbalanced body to a nearby tree. Rob closed his eyes and hissed, as he hit the stump, and the pain traveled all the way through his back to the brain.
-----
"Ungh!"
12-years old Rob Jenkins couldn't do anything. His hands and legs were firmly held by the group of black kids about his age, while Jack delivered yet another blow to his stomach.
"I thought, I already told you, Jenny. This isn't a world for you."
Another punch, this time to the mouth.
"I thold you thoo..." Rob replied before spitting some of his blood mixed with saliva on the court. "You'll be dead if you'll call me 'Jenny' once aga-
Jack's fist quickly interrupted redhead's sentence.
"Still feeling lucky, huh?"
"No, you're the lucky one. Without your goons, you would be as good as dead. Everyone knows, I can beat your ass in both fist fighting AND basketba-"
Rob was denied to finish once again. Jack gave a quick look at his fist, now painted red from Rob's blood coming out of his mouth and brow.
"Dream on, cracker... You'll never make it. You're just pathetic."
"Not as pathetic, as the guy who fears to show without at least four of his friends." Rob smirked a little, knowing his words will work as the red cape on a bull. Or at least he would smirk, if his face would be able to show any emotions after a brutal beating it received.
Jack continued his series of blows. Stomach, groin, face again. Rob tried to hide his pain as much as he was able to, but it was impossible to shut it completely at that point. At least he didn't scream. Just as he was ready for another shot, yet another black kid appeared to stop the 'fun'.
"Jack! Jack! The cops! They're patrolling the streets. We must go!"
"Thanks, Scotty. Let's go guys!"
And in a matter of seconds, all of the attackers vanished in the night, and Rob fell on the ground. As he finally managed to stand up after a few minutes, he heard a short siren, before two cops approached him.
"Oh my God... Are you okay, boy?"
"I'm fine..." Rob replied slowly. "I'm just fine..."
-----
Rob opened his eyes again, and noticed the girl was still there. She could use that chance she got and escape. Rob would still chase her, but probably wouldn't be able to catch her at this point. Idiot. Looks like the black people will never learn.
Before the girl could make any move away from the basketball player, he quickly grabbed her leg and used her own momentum to make her fall on the mud.
Now I got you...
The giant wasted no time with standing up, and as the girl tried to do the same, Rob hit her in the back twice to convince her, staying down was the smarter option. But he wasn't done yet. As the girl turned face up to him, he used his gun in his hand to smack her a few more times in the face. Finally, as the girl stopped moving on the ground so much, Rob calmed down a bit. It was the end. He won. She was at his mercy. Of course, she wouldn't receive any. He just pointed the barrel of his gun at her head, and started breathing heavily again...
*huff puff*
*huff puff*
For a reason unknown even to himself, Rob let the girl spend those last few seconds of her life to pray to whatever God she believed.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
Lily flailed about in the water, coughing and choking on it as she tried to get back up. She didn't make it far, though, as a shoe with a few hundred pounds of force behind it slammed into her back, forcing her back down into the depths and starting her recovery over again. The second time Rob stomped on her back, she forced herself not to get to her hands and knees again, instead turning over and raising her face out of the water, then trying to get up from there.
But as soon as that happened, a blunt piece of plastic collided with her forehead, making her shriek with pain. Rob had decided to grip his gun by the barrel and use it as a hammer. The noise she made only seemed to irritate him even more, making him strike her with the pistol again. One of her eyes swelled shut after being hit directly from his blows. Then she head a soft snapping sound as her nose crumpled under the assault, sending blood dripping down into her throat. Any attempt she made to clear it just made it hurt so much worse. As she coughed, he hit her again, this time in the mouth. She felt hard chunks tumble against her tongue and reflexively spit them out, not realizing until she closed her lips and moved her tongue forward that they were the shattered remains of her front teeth. Then the blows stopped. Her vision in her uninjured eye cleared up enough for her to see that her attacked had his gun pointed right at her head. It made her whimper and freeze in place.
This was it, then. She was going to die here. She would never get to practice gymnastics again, never attend seminary, never see another church service. Her last memory of Roland would be them getting on the bus, parting ways to sit with their respective friends. She didn't know where he was or how he would take it, but she had a sinking feeling that it would scar him, make him vengeful, and just cause more misery in this wretched game.
Would she really be in heaven soon? She knew, wanted to know, that she didn't have much more to fear. It would all be over soon. So she did her best to put aside her fear, the shrill voice inside her that wanted to run, to escape ten inches before her brains sank to the swamp floor. She took a deep breath and looked her killer in the eye.
"Do you really want to kill me?" she asked him, her speech impaired by the huge gap between intact teeth. It never occurred to her to ask why. This was a game of last man standing, and a weaponless girl like her was easy money by herself. "You'll have to live with me for the reft of your life. Because you loft your temper for a few minutes." It was more than that, actually; he had killed that other girl before he even saw Lily. "You'f already got Paige on your confienf. You don't haf to do thif!"
What purpose had she even served on the island, she wondered? She desperately wanted to do something, anything, besides kill or be killed. Anything to break the cycle, anything to spare an innocent. Yet all she'd managed to do was serve as an unwitting decoy, distracting this killer from seeking vengeance on his real target, Aaron Hughes, the man with the plan. Lily knew that plan, or at least part of it, but now she wouldn't be able to act on it, not ever.
A thought occurred to Lily. Just because she had to die here didn't mean the idea did. Her eyes flew open and she raised her voice, desperate to get through to him. "Liffen! The cameraf haf a power four-"
But as soon as that happened, a blunt piece of plastic collided with her forehead, making her shriek with pain. Rob had decided to grip his gun by the barrel and use it as a hammer. The noise she made only seemed to irritate him even more, making him strike her with the pistol again. One of her eyes swelled shut after being hit directly from his blows. Then she head a soft snapping sound as her nose crumpled under the assault, sending blood dripping down into her throat. Any attempt she made to clear it just made it hurt so much worse. As she coughed, he hit her again, this time in the mouth. She felt hard chunks tumble against her tongue and reflexively spit them out, not realizing until she closed her lips and moved her tongue forward that they were the shattered remains of her front teeth. Then the blows stopped. Her vision in her uninjured eye cleared up enough for her to see that her attacked had his gun pointed right at her head. It made her whimper and freeze in place.
This was it, then. She was going to die here. She would never get to practice gymnastics again, never attend seminary, never see another church service. Her last memory of Roland would be them getting on the bus, parting ways to sit with their respective friends. She didn't know where he was or how he would take it, but she had a sinking feeling that it would scar him, make him vengeful, and just cause more misery in this wretched game.
Would she really be in heaven soon? She knew, wanted to know, that she didn't have much more to fear. It would all be over soon. So she did her best to put aside her fear, the shrill voice inside her that wanted to run, to escape ten inches before her brains sank to the swamp floor. She took a deep breath and looked her killer in the eye.
"Do you really want to kill me?" she asked him, her speech impaired by the huge gap between intact teeth. It never occurred to her to ask why. This was a game of last man standing, and a weaponless girl like her was easy money by herself. "You'll have to live with me for the reft of your life. Because you loft your temper for a few minutes." It was more than that, actually; he had killed that other girl before he even saw Lily. "You'f already got Paige on your confienf. You don't haf to do thif!"
What purpose had she even served on the island, she wondered? She desperately wanted to do something, anything, besides kill or be killed. Anything to break the cycle, anything to spare an innocent. Yet all she'd managed to do was serve as an unwitting decoy, distracting this killer from seeking vengeance on his real target, Aaron Hughes, the man with the plan. Lily knew that plan, or at least part of it, but now she wouldn't be able to act on it, not ever.
A thought occurred to Lily. Just because she had to die here didn't mean the idea did. Her eyes flew open and she raised her voice, desperate to get through to him. "Liffen! The cameraf haf a power four-"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
Rob looked at the girl's beaten up face as he aimed his gun at her, but he felt nothing. He had seen damaged faces like that, sometimes even in a mirror (although he never let anyone break his teeth or nose... Yet), so it didn't bother him at all. And why should it? She lost, he won. He was going to be the last man standing, so she had no chance to see the world again anyway.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Robert assumed that the girl would just shut up and pray in silence before the execution, but no. She started talking again. How annoying. And pointless anyway, as he didn't even listen to her. His mind was somewhere completely else...
-----
7-years-old Rob did his best to hide the tears, before opening the door to his home. The plan was simple: 'avoid dad, quickly go to his room, and calm down, before he'll notice anything'. As the little redhead opened the door, he quickly noticed his dad watching evening news, while drinking a can of beer. Some could think, that Mark Jenkins was another, typical abusive dad, who sits on the couch, drink's beer and beats up his wife and kids whenever he feels like it. But that wasn't true. Mark always tried to be the best dad possible, especially without Rob's mother around. Don't be fooled though, if something makes him really angry, then you better be sure you're behind some solid lead wall.
Little Rob silently entered the house, quickly removed his sneakers from his feet, and then slowly... Very slowly... Closed the door, and then-
"Robbie?"
Rob looked at his dad with a fear painted on his face. He failed. Of course, sneaking in was completely impossible right from the start, but a 7-year-old kid failed to realize that. And since Mark wasn't dumb, he quickly noticed his son's face, which was almost as red as his hair right now.
"What happened Robbie?"
"N-nothing dad." Rob took a few steps toward his room.
"Oh come on... You can tell me."
"N-no, it's fine, dad..." another few steps almost turned into sprint, as the door to his room were really really close right now. Just a few more, and...
"ROBERT JENKINS!"
Rob froze in place. If his dad called him by the full name, that meant he was upset, and any disobedience will result in a butt that would be unable to sit for the rest of the week.
"Come over here..." Rob silently turned around, put his head down and approached his father. Instead of a scolding hand, Rob felt both of Mark's hand on his shoulders, as he sat down to match their heights. "And now tell me Robbie... What happened?"
And so, Rob explained everything. About Jack, about the other black kids, about the humiliation... Finally as he finished, Mark rose up again, before the inevitable start of the rant.
"Fucking niggers... I was always saying they are no good at all. Slacking off at work, and suddenly if you'll tell them to move their butts, they'll call you a racist...." He mumbled like that for the next minute, before speaking to Rob again. "And... And YOU let them do that?"
"B-but dad... There was five or six of them, and they were stronger, how could I-"
"I don't care how big was their group! Don't you see, Rob? You just shown them that you're weak. Repeat it once more, and you'll become their punching bag for the rest of you teenage years. Listen to me, young man..." Mark once again put his hands on Rob's shoulders. "And look at me..."
Rob silently put his head up a bit to see his dad's face.
"Respect, and Pride. No matter how strong you are, or how much money do you have, those two will always be your biggest strengths and treasures. Don't let anyone take it away from you. If you'll have to fight for it - then do so. Do you understand?"
Rob simply nodded. He didn't understand all of those words yet, but he knew it was smart ones. Their true meaning would slowly becoming his mentality in several years, but now... He just wanted to rest.
"C-can I go to my room now?" He asked.
"Yes, you can, but come soon. Dinner in an hour..." Mark replied, and Rob slowly passed the short distance to his room. As he opened the door, he heard Mark's voice again.
"Robbie?"
"Yes, dad?"
"You do realize that playing in the NBA means working with the niggers for the rest of your career?"
"I suppose so, dad..."
"And you still want to play in the NBA?"
"Yes dad, very much"
"Then you will... I'll go to the local sports center tomorrow, and I'll sign you up for some real course, even if that'll mean eating bread only for the rest of my life."
Unable to say anything, Rob closed to the door. A giant smile appeared on his face.
-----
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Robert still stood there, gun pointed on the head of black girl, while the girl still talked.
Jesus...
"You'll have to live with me for the reft of your life. Because you loft your temper for a few minutes."
"it's still not a place for your white little ass, get it?"
*Huff Puff*
"You'f already got Paige on your confienf."
"You'll never make it. You're just pathetic."
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You don't haf to do thif!"
"Respect, and Pride..."
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You still want to play in the NBA?"
"Liffen! The cameraf haf a power four-"
"Then you will..."
And then, Rob pulled the trigger.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Robert assumed that the girl would just shut up and pray in silence before the execution, but no. She started talking again. How annoying. And pointless anyway, as he didn't even listen to her. His mind was somewhere completely else...
-----
7-years-old Rob did his best to hide the tears, before opening the door to his home. The plan was simple: 'avoid dad, quickly go to his room, and calm down, before he'll notice anything'. As the little redhead opened the door, he quickly noticed his dad watching evening news, while drinking a can of beer. Some could think, that Mark Jenkins was another, typical abusive dad, who sits on the couch, drink's beer and beats up his wife and kids whenever he feels like it. But that wasn't true. Mark always tried to be the best dad possible, especially without Rob's mother around. Don't be fooled though, if something makes him really angry, then you better be sure you're behind some solid lead wall.
Little Rob silently entered the house, quickly removed his sneakers from his feet, and then slowly... Very slowly... Closed the door, and then-
"Robbie?"
Rob looked at his dad with a fear painted on his face. He failed. Of course, sneaking in was completely impossible right from the start, but a 7-year-old kid failed to realize that. And since Mark wasn't dumb, he quickly noticed his son's face, which was almost as red as his hair right now.
"What happened Robbie?"
"N-nothing dad." Rob took a few steps toward his room.
"Oh come on... You can tell me."
"N-no, it's fine, dad..." another few steps almost turned into sprint, as the door to his room were really really close right now. Just a few more, and...
"ROBERT JENKINS!"
Rob froze in place. If his dad called him by the full name, that meant he was upset, and any disobedience will result in a butt that would be unable to sit for the rest of the week.
"Come over here..." Rob silently turned around, put his head down and approached his father. Instead of a scolding hand, Rob felt both of Mark's hand on his shoulders, as he sat down to match their heights. "And now tell me Robbie... What happened?"
And so, Rob explained everything. About Jack, about the other black kids, about the humiliation... Finally as he finished, Mark rose up again, before the inevitable start of the rant.
"Fucking niggers... I was always saying they are no good at all. Slacking off at work, and suddenly if you'll tell them to move their butts, they'll call you a racist...." He mumbled like that for the next minute, before speaking to Rob again. "And... And YOU let them do that?"
"B-but dad... There was five or six of them, and they were stronger, how could I-"
"I don't care how big was their group! Don't you see, Rob? You just shown them that you're weak. Repeat it once more, and you'll become their punching bag for the rest of you teenage years. Listen to me, young man..." Mark once again put his hands on Rob's shoulders. "And look at me..."
Rob silently put his head up a bit to see his dad's face.
"Respect, and Pride. No matter how strong you are, or how much money do you have, those two will always be your biggest strengths and treasures. Don't let anyone take it away from you. If you'll have to fight for it - then do so. Do you understand?"
Rob simply nodded. He didn't understand all of those words yet, but he knew it was smart ones. Their true meaning would slowly becoming his mentality in several years, but now... He just wanted to rest.
"C-can I go to my room now?" He asked.
"Yes, you can, but come soon. Dinner in an hour..." Mark replied, and Rob slowly passed the short distance to his room. As he opened the door, he heard Mark's voice again.
"Robbie?"
"Yes, dad?"
"You do realize that playing in the NBA means working with the niggers for the rest of your career?"
"I suppose so, dad..."
"And you still want to play in the NBA?"
"Yes dad, very much"
"Then you will... I'll go to the local sports center tomorrow, and I'll sign you up for some real course, even if that'll mean eating bread only for the rest of my life."
Unable to say anything, Rob closed to the door. A giant smile appeared on his face.
-----
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
Robert still stood there, gun pointed on the head of black girl, while the girl still talked.
Jesus...
"You'll have to live with me for the reft of your life. Because you loft your temper for a few minutes."
"it's still not a place for your white little ass, get it?"
*Huff Puff*
"You'f already got Paige on your confienf."
"You'll never make it. You're just pathetic."
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You don't haf to do thif!"
"Respect, and Pride..."
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
"You still want to play in the NBA?"
"Liffen! The cameraf haf a power four-"
"Then you will..."
And then, Rob pulled the trigger.
*Huff Puff*
*Huff Puff*
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
She didn't realize until halfway through her first sentence how much it hurt to talk now. Any amount of articulation at all meant putting her tongue to the sharp, jagged, remains of her teeth, which not only sickened her to feel, but made the exposed nerves, already burning constantly, flare up even more. Then there was the blood pooling in her throat, making her cough violently every so often. With those sorts of impediments in her way, it was surprising that she made it as far as she did before the boy got tired of listening to her and putting a bullet in her head.
---
The next morning, Lily woke up with a feeling of dread, a headache, and an audible pulse, and had to rest for another five minutes in her tent. As she rested, she noticed beads of sweat resting on her forehead. When she wiped them away, she noticed how sweaty her arm was, and the rest of her, too. Her pajamas were practically plastered onto her skin.
After looking around nervously at the night outside, she sluggishly pulled herself out of her sleeping bag, noticing that the inside of it was kind of slick, at least at the bottom. Dang, she'd practically gotten baked, sitting in that insulated cocoon. Was she coming down with something? She felt pretty chilly, despite how much she sweat inside that sleeping bag. Her nose felt a little stuffy and itchy, itchy enough to make her sneeze three times in a row, each sneeze making her muscles ache. Then she started coughing, great whooping coughs that made her bunkmate stir drowsily.
"Nnngh, what's up?" Maddy Stone asked, rubbing her eyes and squinting at her.
Lily finished coughing and looked back at her. "I think I'm coming down with something," she said, trying not to cough again despite the soreness of her throat. "And I just had a nightmare. A really bad one."
"Really? What was it about?"
Lily tried to remember everything, and she drew a blank. What was it? It scared the living daylights out of her, so she ought to remember it. But when she woke up, the details ran from her like cockroaches from a lit room. "I don't know," she said. "It was just... it really set me on edge. I don't think I've ever had one like it."
Maddy frowned and started to raise her hand to pat Lily's shoulder and comfort her, but then she drew it back. "Um, I think you might be contagious," she said. Her eyes didn't meet Lily's; Lily could tell she was worried about being insensitive. "It, um, it wouldn't do well for us both to get sick, right?"
Lily shrugged and smiled. "I guess not," she replied.
"Tell you what, I'll let you have the tent to yourself." Maddy started to crawl her way out of her tent.
"Wait, you don't have to-"
"Nonono, it's alright." Maddy got to her feet outside and pulled her sleeping bag out of the tent. "It's not like I'm totally exposed to the elements out there. You just worry about getting some rest, alright?"
Lily nodded, already feeling her head and her eyelids weighing her down. "Alright, see you in the morning." She crawled back into her sleeping bag and turned herself over. It took a lot of turns for her to get comfortable, and it took even longer, minutes longer, for her to keep her eyes closed and start drifting off. The lingering adrenaline from her nightmare still had her on edge; for a while she thought of the world outside her tent as a dangerous place where anything could happen to her, and right after Maddy left the sanctuary of the tent, Lily actually feared for her safety. But that feeling didn't last; she knew that the two of them were perfectly safe here.
They'd wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after the sun rose, and they'd meet up with Imraan and Tiffany and... Rachel, she supposed, going on hikes and roasting sausages. Maybe they'd cross paths with Roland and some of his other friends. She kind of liked that one kid, Dutchy; she'd like to get to know him better.
Hopefully she'd be in good enough shape to walk and do all of those things tomorrow. If she were unlucky enough, she'd stay sick throughout the rest of the trip. At least she'd probably be able to attend the graduation ceremony. Roland told her that his friend Max would be making a speech, and given what she'd heard of him before, it sounded like a standing ovation was almost inevitable.
In half an hour, she started snoring. Her dreams that night were far more pleasant this time around. In a few days time, she wouldn't remember her nightmare at all.
---
The body of Lillian Hayes sank deep into the swamp, buried deep beneath the still surface of the water. A cloud of blood spread through the water and mingled with the algae. Her flesh would feed bacteria and fungi and who knows what else, creatures incapable of comprehending the significance of their meal.
The soul of Lillian Hayes fled to another place entirely, known but to God.
G076 Lillian Hayes: DECEASED
---
The next morning, Lily woke up with a feeling of dread, a headache, and an audible pulse, and had to rest for another five minutes in her tent. As she rested, she noticed beads of sweat resting on her forehead. When she wiped them away, she noticed how sweaty her arm was, and the rest of her, too. Her pajamas were practically plastered onto her skin.
After looking around nervously at the night outside, she sluggishly pulled herself out of her sleeping bag, noticing that the inside of it was kind of slick, at least at the bottom. Dang, she'd practically gotten baked, sitting in that insulated cocoon. Was she coming down with something? She felt pretty chilly, despite how much she sweat inside that sleeping bag. Her nose felt a little stuffy and itchy, itchy enough to make her sneeze three times in a row, each sneeze making her muscles ache. Then she started coughing, great whooping coughs that made her bunkmate stir drowsily.
"Nnngh, what's up?" Maddy Stone asked, rubbing her eyes and squinting at her.
Lily finished coughing and looked back at her. "I think I'm coming down with something," she said, trying not to cough again despite the soreness of her throat. "And I just had a nightmare. A really bad one."
"Really? What was it about?"
Lily tried to remember everything, and she drew a blank. What was it? It scared the living daylights out of her, so she ought to remember it. But when she woke up, the details ran from her like cockroaches from a lit room. "I don't know," she said. "It was just... it really set me on edge. I don't think I've ever had one like it."
Maddy frowned and started to raise her hand to pat Lily's shoulder and comfort her, but then she drew it back. "Um, I think you might be contagious," she said. Her eyes didn't meet Lily's; Lily could tell she was worried about being insensitive. "It, um, it wouldn't do well for us both to get sick, right?"
Lily shrugged and smiled. "I guess not," she replied.
"Tell you what, I'll let you have the tent to yourself." Maddy started to crawl her way out of her tent.
"Wait, you don't have to-"
"Nonono, it's alright." Maddy got to her feet outside and pulled her sleeping bag out of the tent. "It's not like I'm totally exposed to the elements out there. You just worry about getting some rest, alright?"
Lily nodded, already feeling her head and her eyelids weighing her down. "Alright, see you in the morning." She crawled back into her sleeping bag and turned herself over. It took a lot of turns for her to get comfortable, and it took even longer, minutes longer, for her to keep her eyes closed and start drifting off. The lingering adrenaline from her nightmare still had her on edge; for a while she thought of the world outside her tent as a dangerous place where anything could happen to her, and right after Maddy left the sanctuary of the tent, Lily actually feared for her safety. But that feeling didn't last; she knew that the two of them were perfectly safe here.
They'd wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after the sun rose, and they'd meet up with Imraan and Tiffany and... Rachel, she supposed, going on hikes and roasting sausages. Maybe they'd cross paths with Roland and some of his other friends. She kind of liked that one kid, Dutchy; she'd like to get to know him better.
Hopefully she'd be in good enough shape to walk and do all of those things tomorrow. If she were unlucky enough, she'd stay sick throughout the rest of the trip. At least she'd probably be able to attend the graduation ceremony. Roland told her that his friend Max would be making a speech, and given what she'd heard of him before, it sounded like a standing ovation was almost inevitable.
In half an hour, she started snoring. Her dreams that night were far more pleasant this time around. In a few days time, she wouldn't remember her nightmare at all.
---
The body of Lillian Hayes sank deep into the swamp, buried deep beneath the still surface of the water. A cloud of blood spread through the water and mingled with the algae. Her flesh would feed bacteria and fungi and who knows what else, creatures incapable of comprehending the significance of their meal.
The soul of Lillian Hayes fled to another place entirely, known but to God.
G076 Lillian Hayes: DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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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Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
*Huff Puff*
Rob lost the track of time, as he stood over the disfigured body of the black girl, now with an additional hole in her forehead. It was time to go away, and yet he still stared at her lifeless body. Why? Because he tried to feel something. Anything. Anger, satisfaction, sorrow, fear, whatever. But there was nothing. No feelings, no thoughts. Just an emptiness.
Finally, after a few more minutes, senses came back, and so did the motivation. It wasn't over. In fact, it was far from it. Rob had no idea how many people were still alive on the island, but it was safe to assume he had to stay alive for at least twice as much days as he did already.
The most important game in his life. Failing now would not just add another L to his career count, his life was at the stake. He couldn't lose now. Especially not after the things he had gone through on the island already.
It was time to move on. Rob grabbed the daypack that fell of the girl as he went down, as well as his own. His food and water rations were disappearing way too fast, so he wouldn't pass up the chance for a resupply. Sadly, the girl didn't have any weapon. Then again, Robert was already better equipped for the struggle than most of his opponents, as his vest already proved.
*Huff Puff*
But enough of pointless digressions. Robert desperately needed some rest to regain his strength and stamina. Before leaving though, Rob recalled something. Before he started his assault on the girl, he heard her saying something along the lines of 'I'm sorry about what Aaron did'.
So his name is Aaron...
The Irishman took the one last glance at the dead body.
"Consider this as a message... Aaron."
((Robert Jenkins continued in The Moment of Truth))
((Thread is over))
Rob lost the track of time, as he stood over the disfigured body of the black girl, now with an additional hole in her forehead. It was time to go away, and yet he still stared at her lifeless body. Why? Because he tried to feel something. Anything. Anger, satisfaction, sorrow, fear, whatever. But there was nothing. No feelings, no thoughts. Just an emptiness.
Finally, after a few more minutes, senses came back, and so did the motivation. It wasn't over. In fact, it was far from it. Rob had no idea how many people were still alive on the island, but it was safe to assume he had to stay alive for at least twice as much days as he did already.
The most important game in his life. Failing now would not just add another L to his career count, his life was at the stake. He couldn't lose now. Especially not after the things he had gone through on the island already.
It was time to move on. Rob grabbed the daypack that fell of the girl as he went down, as well as his own. His food and water rations were disappearing way too fast, so he wouldn't pass up the chance for a resupply. Sadly, the girl didn't have any weapon. Then again, Robert was already better equipped for the struggle than most of his opponents, as his vest already proved.
*Huff Puff*
But enough of pointless digressions. Robert desperately needed some rest to regain his strength and stamina. Before leaving though, Rob recalled something. Before he started his assault on the girl, he heard her saying something along the lines of 'I'm sorry about what Aaron did'.
So his name is Aaron...
The Irishman took the one last glance at the dead body.
"Consider this as a message... Aaron."
((Robert Jenkins continued in The Moment of Truth))
((Thread is over))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.