((Brandon Baxter, from Shock Treatment))
Inexplicably, as Baxter traversed the island that had officially become the gravesite to many of his classmates, he thought of days where he would stay home from school sick. His stepfather had ensured that his family had a very extravagant cable package for the television, pushed by both his and Dave's love of football, high definition television, and mindlessly zooming through channels on lazy days.
So, naturally, with 400+ channels at his disposal, Baxter would curl up in front of the television, a blanket and soup contributing to a warm, sedated feeling that would settle over him, and would begin to channel surf.
He'd always settle on Wheel of Fortune, mostly because it was hard to avoid and it was soothing to see other people win. Granted, he'd get frustrated every now and again when the answer was so glaringly obvious, but generally, he'd enjoyed the time spent home, his mother calling to check up on him, a cell phone his only communication with his friends.
There wasn't any Wheel of Fortune on the island. He couldn't curl into the warmth and peace of mind of canned chicken noodle and a soft blanket. There wasn't such a thing as a mindless activity.
It was with these thoughts that he arrived to the greenhouse feeling raw, bruised in more than just his body. Dan's watery funeral had opened a harshness in him, a brutal self-look at who he was, what he thought he could do.
Baxter tapped the long branch against his hand as he stood outside the greenhouse, leaned against the glass on the outside, and rubbed at his nose. If only he could've found allies, partners. Someone to spin the wheel with and guess at vowels and consonants.
As it was, he was alone, he was scared, and he didn't know where to turn.
No Whammies
Private thread
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
((Miranda Millers continued from Check Out My New Weapon, Weapon of Choice))
She found it was easier to carry her spear over her shoulders rather than simply in her hand.
Ever since she left, Miranda tried to get her mind off the entire incident at the houses. And yet, the warm blood on her hand and the loud cawing of the gun continued to eat at her. No matter what she tried to think of, it went back to blood and gunshots. Thinking of resting? Kaitlyn would come up and beg for her pain to end. Think of a show she saw once? Gunshots would break through her memories. Miranda wasn't sure if she was able to go through life for a while without remembering.
After walking and occasionally resting for what seemed like forever, Miranda was somewhere new.
Just where were they, exactly? Wasn't this supposed to be an island? Then why was she standing in a field of wheat? For a second, Miranda thought she finally cracked and this was just some sort of delusion. But apparently, it was as real as you can get. Still, it raised a lot of questions. For example, people farmed here? Was the soil on this island rich enough for that? Apparently, by the look of things.
No matter what, it was somewhat surreal. This place only got more and more strange, in her opinion. At least it took her mind away a bit longer.
As Miranda traversed through the wheat field, she could feel the sun on her shoulders, still only warming. In the distance, she saw what appeared to be a green house, and slightly further off was something resembling a farmhouse and barn. Miranda squinted her eyes to get a better look.
Would one of those be a good place to spend some time for a while?
Recently she had killed someone and got shot at when she was at the town. So were buildings safe? Would there be someone in the barn or the house? What then? Could she simply shoo them out without killing as much as humanely possible?
It was probably a good idea to find a new hideout, anyways. It was mostly likely going to be like her previous, at the very best, though sleeping on the ground wasn't nice either.
Miranda approached the greenhouse, examining it. Underneath her feet were bits and pieces of shattered glass. Like everything else, the greenhouse wasn't in top shape. She doubted it would be a good place to rest, so she had to keep looking.
Actually, the greenhouse would be a terrible place. Especially with the figure just around the corner.
Slowly, she moved the spear off her shoulders, and moved towards it, feeling anxiety once more. She was going to try to avoid panicking this time, to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. Once she saw who it was, though, her eyes developed a glare.
Great. Baxter. Baxter who always had to make jokes about stupid things and then get angry. That was not someone she wanted to see right now. No, not at all. It was right up there with Veronica, and in her current state of mind, she really didn't want to deal with him right now.
She knew she had the physical capability to kill, but she wanted to avoid testing that a bit more.
Simply, she asked "What are you doing here?"
What a great way to say hello, huh?
She found it was easier to carry her spear over her shoulders rather than simply in her hand.
Ever since she left, Miranda tried to get her mind off the entire incident at the houses. And yet, the warm blood on her hand and the loud cawing of the gun continued to eat at her. No matter what she tried to think of, it went back to blood and gunshots. Thinking of resting? Kaitlyn would come up and beg for her pain to end. Think of a show she saw once? Gunshots would break through her memories. Miranda wasn't sure if she was able to go through life for a while without remembering.
After walking and occasionally resting for what seemed like forever, Miranda was somewhere new.
Just where were they, exactly? Wasn't this supposed to be an island? Then why was she standing in a field of wheat? For a second, Miranda thought she finally cracked and this was just some sort of delusion. But apparently, it was as real as you can get. Still, it raised a lot of questions. For example, people farmed here? Was the soil on this island rich enough for that? Apparently, by the look of things.
No matter what, it was somewhat surreal. This place only got more and more strange, in her opinion. At least it took her mind away a bit longer.
As Miranda traversed through the wheat field, she could feel the sun on her shoulders, still only warming. In the distance, she saw what appeared to be a green house, and slightly further off was something resembling a farmhouse and barn. Miranda squinted her eyes to get a better look.
Would one of those be a good place to spend some time for a while?
Recently she had killed someone and got shot at when she was at the town. So were buildings safe? Would there be someone in the barn or the house? What then? Could she simply shoo them out without killing as much as humanely possible?
It was probably a good idea to find a new hideout, anyways. It was mostly likely going to be like her previous, at the very best, though sleeping on the ground wasn't nice either.
Miranda approached the greenhouse, examining it. Underneath her feet were bits and pieces of shattered glass. Like everything else, the greenhouse wasn't in top shape. She doubted it would be a good place to rest, so she had to keep looking.
Actually, the greenhouse would be a terrible place. Especially with the figure just around the corner.
Slowly, she moved the spear off her shoulders, and moved towards it, feeling anxiety once more. She was going to try to avoid panicking this time, to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. Once she saw who it was, though, her eyes developed a glare.
Great. Baxter. Baxter who always had to make jokes about stupid things and then get angry. That was not someone she wanted to see right now. No, not at all. It was right up there with Veronica, and in her current state of mind, she really didn't want to deal with him right now.
She knew she had the physical capability to kill, but she wanted to avoid testing that a bit more.
Simply, she asked "What are you doing here?"
What a great way to say hello, huh?
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
At the sound of the voice, Baxter glanced up, shifting his grip on the branch he held to resemble a baseball bat, held pointed at the ground. He rolled his eyes at Miranda, turning to lean one broad shoulder against the glass of the greenhouse, fixing a sneer onto his mouth.
"I'm singing fucking showtunes." He said, gesturing to his position with big hands.
Of all the people to encounter in the midst of a crisis, it had to be Miranda fucking Millers. One of the most annoying, irritable, stick-your-nose-up skanky bitches that he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.
And he wasn't in the mood.
"And you, Millers? How's life in the twat lane?"
"I'm singing fucking showtunes." He said, gesturing to his position with big hands.
Of all the people to encounter in the midst of a crisis, it had to be Miranda fucking Millers. One of the most annoying, irritable, stick-your-nose-up skanky bitches that he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.
And he wasn't in the mood.
"And you, Millers? How's life in the twat lane?"
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Baxter looked to her, and started sarcastically talking about show tunes. Well, at least that was normal. Though, it was normal in the same way flies tend to fly to rotten food. It was expected, and you didn't like it, but you would feel weird if it didn't happen. It was fairly normal in the same sense that Baxter would be sarcastic.
Really, the only part that wasn't normal this time was the fact that one of them was holding a spear, while the other held a large stick. Oh, and the whole island thing.
Miranda scowled. He just called a twat. Normally she would brush that off as best as she could, but given what had happened so far, she wasn't in the mood herself.
"Oh, I'm fine. Just... enjoying the island so far. Disneyland has nothing on it", she said, a hint of frustration to her voice.
The two of them were armed, and Miranda wasn't sure if he would attack. If he did hit her with the stick, she did have a spear to fend him off. But she was going to try to avoid that.
"Listen to me. I'm not in the mood for your kind of bullshit, and I don't want to start trouble. So how about you run off somewhere and pretend to be a monkey, like what you've been probably doing this whole time?"
Baxter looked to her, and started sarcastically talking about show tunes. Well, at least that was normal. Though, it was normal in the same way flies tend to fly to rotten food. It was expected, and you didn't like it, but you would feel weird if it didn't happen. It was fairly normal in the same sense that Baxter would be sarcastic.
Really, the only part that wasn't normal this time was the fact that one of them was holding a spear, while the other held a large stick. Oh, and the whole island thing.
Miranda scowled. He just called a twat. Normally she would brush that off as best as she could, but given what had happened so far, she wasn't in the mood herself.
"Oh, I'm fine. Just... enjoying the island so far. Disneyland has nothing on it", she said, a hint of frustration to her voice.
The two of them were armed, and Miranda wasn't sure if he would attack. If he did hit her with the stick, she did have a spear to fend him off. But she was going to try to avoid that.
"Listen to me. I'm not in the mood for your kind of bullshit, and I don't want to start trouble. So how about you run off somewhere and pretend to be a monkey, like what you've been probably doing this whole time?"
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
Temper flared up, brilliant and bright like a sun. Baxter found himself shoving to stand straight up, turning to face the girl fully, his eyes darkening with the barely-there restraint that crackled through his veins.
Maybe a good old fashioned screaming match would help with this useless feeling that had stolen over him.
"That's rich, coming from the island bike. At least I have the decency to admit I throw my own shit, honey bunch. You're the one trying to convince yourself that gold bars come out of your ass."
He took a step towards her, his intent clear. Back off, Millers
Maybe a good old fashioned screaming match would help with this useless feeling that had stolen over him.
"That's rich, coming from the island bike. At least I have the decency to admit I throw my own shit, honey bunch. You're the one trying to convince yourself that gold bars come out of your ass."
He took a step towards her, his intent clear. Back off, Millers
Miranda held her spear close, her eyes once more narrowed.
Who was he, calling her the island bike? And what was he saying? That she threw bricks of gold at people? Shitted bricks of gold, at that? He was, as always, pissing her off. It wasn't like she was spreading her legs for everyone and throwing golden feces at people, damn it. More like getting shot at and-
Anyways.
"Baxter, for fuck's sake. You just admitted that you threw poop at people. How often have you been doing that? Did someone die from something flung from your rear?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Again, I'm not looking for trouble. However, I swear to god-"
She cut herself off. There was another difference between the times she and Baxter argued. Namely, that his posture had changed. He didn't just look frustrated. He looked scary. He had stepped towards her, and it clearly wasn't a sign that he just wanted a closer look. Miranda remembered that this wasn't like back at school, where the worst thing that could happen was a teacher walking in and punishing the two of them. It was life-or-death here, and she needed to end this soon.
"I swear to god", she continued, " that if you don't go, I'll make you."
Who was he, calling her the island bike? And what was he saying? That she threw bricks of gold at people? Shitted bricks of gold, at that? He was, as always, pissing her off. It wasn't like she was spreading her legs for everyone and throwing golden feces at people, damn it. More like getting shot at and-
Anyways.
"Baxter, for fuck's sake. You just admitted that you threw poop at people. How often have you been doing that? Did someone die from something flung from your rear?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Again, I'm not looking for trouble. However, I swear to god-"
She cut herself off. There was another difference between the times she and Baxter argued. Namely, that his posture had changed. He didn't just look frustrated. He looked scary. He had stepped towards her, and it clearly wasn't a sign that he just wanted a closer look. Miranda remembered that this wasn't like back at school, where the worst thing that could happen was a teacher walking in and punishing the two of them. It was life-or-death here, and she needed to end this soon.
"I swear to god", she continued, " that if you don't go, I'll make you."
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
A harsh chuckle exploded from Baxter's lips as he took another step forwards, followed by another. He was sick of this helpless feeling, sick of the constant questioning and wondering of whether or not he'd be capable of playing this twisted game. His fists curled tighter against the wooden branch, lifting it over his shoulder in a swinging position as he closed the distance between them further.
"Oh, 'Randa," he purred, a dark grin spreading over his face as he towered over her, armed and ready.
"You couldn't make the sun rise in the morning. 'Sides, I was here first. You can take your duck face, your pound of makeup, and your shitty personality on the road. Or I'll make you go."
For emphasis, he drummed gloved fingers against the wood of the branch.
"Oh, 'Randa," he purred, a dark grin spreading over his face as he towered over her, armed and ready.
"You couldn't make the sun rise in the morning. 'Sides, I was here first. You can take your duck face, your pound of makeup, and your shitty personality on the road. Or I'll make you go."
For emphasis, he drummed gloved fingers against the wood of the branch.
With each step Baxter took towards her, Miranda took a step back.
She was starting to regret talking to him. This time, she was trying to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. But it was clear that he was going to hurt her. That chuckle slid down underneath her skin and stayed there, giving her a firm shudder. Baxter was the sort of thing she was scared of, the kind of person who would hurt her simply because they wanted to see her go. When she had first woken up, this what she pictured when she stared at the beach that day, as the water pushed at her feet. It was now becoming a reality.
No one truly liked Miranda Millers, and it was something she was aware of. If she didn't do what it took to survive, then one day, one hour, someone could simply attack and kill her without a care in the world. Baxter was one such person, she knew. It was about as obvious as it could get with how he acted.
Was this how Kaitlyn felt, by the way? Dealing with someone...
As he got closer, Miranda raised the point of her spear in a defensive position.
"Okay, I'll leave. I really don't feel like being killed right now. Go... go do your thing somewhere", she said, a nervousness creeping into her voice. "Act like some comedian while doing it. I don't care."
She stepped backwards a bit further.
"Understand?"
Miranda was prepared to bolt for it or defend herself.
She was starting to regret talking to him. This time, she was trying to prevent a repeat of Kaitlyn. But it was clear that he was going to hurt her. That chuckle slid down underneath her skin and stayed there, giving her a firm shudder. Baxter was the sort of thing she was scared of, the kind of person who would hurt her simply because they wanted to see her go. When she had first woken up, this what she pictured when she stared at the beach that day, as the water pushed at her feet. It was now becoming a reality.
No one truly liked Miranda Millers, and it was something she was aware of. If she didn't do what it took to survive, then one day, one hour, someone could simply attack and kill her without a care in the world. Baxter was one such person, she knew. It was about as obvious as it could get with how he acted.
Was this how Kaitlyn felt, by the way? Dealing with someone...
As he got closer, Miranda raised the point of her spear in a defensive position.
"Okay, I'll leave. I really don't feel like being killed right now. Go... go do your thing somewhere", she said, a nervousness creeping into her voice. "Act like some comedian while doing it. I don't care."
She stepped backwards a bit further.
"Understand?"
Miranda was prepared to bolt for it or defend herself.
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
She was backing up, and Baxter was advancing. That was all that mattered in this moment. He had the upper hand, he was winning the game, and clearly she didn't have what it took. He needed to act, and he needed to act now.
It was time to nut up, or shut up. He'd spent too much time pussying around agonizing about whether or not he could play the game, kill his teammates. Well, here was a frightened girl, who was a head shorter than him and a great deal below him in weight class. She also happened to be a huge bitch, so nobody would miss her.
Time to stop being a pussy, Baxter.
Suddenly, he bolted forwards, closing the distance between himself and Miranda while raising his makeshift club over his head to send it whistling through the air.
His target; her temple.
It was time to nut up, or shut up. He'd spent too much time pussying around agonizing about whether or not he could play the game, kill his teammates. Well, here was a frightened girl, who was a head shorter than him and a great deal below him in weight class. She also happened to be a huge bitch, so nobody would miss her.
Time to stop being a pussy, Baxter.
Suddenly, he bolted forwards, closing the distance between himself and Miranda while raising his makeshift club over his head to send it whistling through the air.
His target; her temple.
Suddenly Baxter charged at her, and Miranda froze, her spear still in front of her.
He was too quick. Miranda wanted to smack him with the spear, or perhaps jab him away with it in a certain away. She wanted to push him away, and to stop him. But as she raised her spear up, she was stopped by a club to the face.
For a second, time seemed to have stopped as she fell to the ground, fear replacing any thoughts she may have had. But the landing was quick. Miranda lost grip of her spear, and it landed an inch from her hand. Her head and the shoulder, which landed on the bag still strung over it, blazed with pain. It was likely that he was going to strike her again, and he probably wasn't going to stop until she was dead.
This was how she felt after all.
Miranda quickly lifted up her head, and saw her spear, still loyally resting where she had dropped it. Without thinking twice, she grabbed it.
One thought still remained in her head among the thoughts racing throughout.
I need to live I need to get away he's not going to kill me I won't let him.
Miranda didn't want to die, not like this. Not at the hands of some classmate thinking they could do her in without a care in the world. Being beaten to death wasn't how she wanted to go. So she had to do something.
She jabbed towards Baxter's ankle, hoping to prevent him from getting another hit at her. Miranda dug it into his leg, and pulled out just as quickly.
It was a way out. He was at least somewhat distracted.
Miranda crawled away as quickly as possible, her head still throbbing and her things still as heavy as ever. Some ways away from Baxter, she pulled herself to her feet, wincing as she did so, and started running through the wheat field, still in shock from the blow.
There were some battles she couldn't win. This was one of them.
((Miranda Millers continued in I Want To Get Off Mr. Bones' Wild Ride!))
He was too quick. Miranda wanted to smack him with the spear, or perhaps jab him away with it in a certain away. She wanted to push him away, and to stop him. But as she raised her spear up, she was stopped by a club to the face.
For a second, time seemed to have stopped as she fell to the ground, fear replacing any thoughts she may have had. But the landing was quick. Miranda lost grip of her spear, and it landed an inch from her hand. Her head and the shoulder, which landed on the bag still strung over it, blazed with pain. It was likely that he was going to strike her again, and he probably wasn't going to stop until she was dead.
This was how she felt after all.
Miranda quickly lifted up her head, and saw her spear, still loyally resting where she had dropped it. Without thinking twice, she grabbed it.
One thought still remained in her head among the thoughts racing throughout.
I need to live I need to get away he's not going to kill me I won't let him.
Miranda didn't want to die, not like this. Not at the hands of some classmate thinking they could do her in without a care in the world. Being beaten to death wasn't how she wanted to go. So she had to do something.
She jabbed towards Baxter's ankle, hoping to prevent him from getting another hit at her. Miranda dug it into his leg, and pulled out just as quickly.
It was a way out. He was at least somewhat distracted.
Miranda crawled away as quickly as possible, her head still throbbing and her things still as heavy as ever. Some ways away from Baxter, she pulled herself to her feet, wincing as she did so, and started running through the wheat field, still in shock from the blow.
There were some battles she couldn't win. This was one of them.
((Miranda Millers continued in I Want To Get Off Mr. Bones' Wild Ride!))
-
NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
As Miranda went down, a sudden, violent, and exploding pain erupted in the back of Baxter's right foot as her spear was sent flying home, making him roar out in pain and anger as he staggered forwards. He couldn't do anything but try to get rid of the sudden stabbing pain as he took an attempted step away from the spear, lodging it further into the flesh of his calf, causing him to seize up and twist.
As he fell earthward, he felt something give, something that made his entire right leg twitch as he clawed at it, letting out another scream of pain.
Miranda was shuffling away as he grabbed at his pant leg, tugging it up, eyes widening in horror as he took in his right foot. It was a bloody mess; his boot had been severed by the thrust of the girl's spear, his calf and ankle soaked in blood. Worse, his right foot lay at an awkwardly flat angle, and it didn't respond to the commands he sent it.
Jutting out from the heel of his boot was a bit of flesh, the shredded and torn remainder of his achilles tendon.
Roaring again, Baxter flopped to his stomach, grabbing at Miranda with his left hand as she scrambled away. His face was bright red, dirt smearing over the furious, contorted, agonized expression on his face as he tried to pull himself after her, tried to close the gap between them.
As she made haste to leave him where he lay, he began to scream in earnest; hands slamming into the ground, shoulders twisting, neck craning.
"Millers! Don't leave me like this, you fucking cunt! You can't leave me here! Millers! MILLERS!"
But she was gone, off and running, leaving him here in a prison of nauseating pain and sudden, inescapable dread.
Brandon Baxter was alone.
With one last moan, he slid into blackness.
((Brandon Baxter, Power, Reprised))
As he fell earthward, he felt something give, something that made his entire right leg twitch as he clawed at it, letting out another scream of pain.
Miranda was shuffling away as he grabbed at his pant leg, tugging it up, eyes widening in horror as he took in his right foot. It was a bloody mess; his boot had been severed by the thrust of the girl's spear, his calf and ankle soaked in blood. Worse, his right foot lay at an awkwardly flat angle, and it didn't respond to the commands he sent it.
Jutting out from the heel of his boot was a bit of flesh, the shredded and torn remainder of his achilles tendon.
Roaring again, Baxter flopped to his stomach, grabbing at Miranda with his left hand as she scrambled away. His face was bright red, dirt smearing over the furious, contorted, agonized expression on his face as he tried to pull himself after her, tried to close the gap between them.
As she made haste to leave him where he lay, he began to scream in earnest; hands slamming into the ground, shoulders twisting, neck craning.
"Millers! Don't leave me like this, you fucking cunt! You can't leave me here! Millers! MILLERS!"
But she was gone, off and running, leaving him here in a prison of nauseating pain and sudden, inescapable dread.
Brandon Baxter was alone.
With one last moan, he slid into blackness.
((Brandon Baxter, Power, Reprised))