((Steve and Gabe continued from Illusiions))
((There is some minor GMing here, but I talked to Crash and because of the in character canon timeline I've been given permission to do.))
There was still no sign of Lenny Priestly, which for Lenny was probably a good thing as each of the boys now had extremely powerful guns in their possession and they had one other thing. Determination. Lenny Priestly was a walking dead man, there was no doubt about that in either the quarter-back or runningback's minds.
"Did you hear that?" Gabe said as an extremely loud shout came from nearby.
"Yeah...we're near the bridge, think someone's in trouble?" Steve replied checking the map.
"Maybe. Let's find out, I mean it could be Lenny afterall." Gabe said with a touch of a snarl in his voice.
The boys made their way towards the sound to find three people and some corpses strewed about the ground. Danni, Trish and...
"Dude...that's James Brown. He's the first person who shot me, and I'm the one that broke his nose and stole his gun." Steve whispered as they came closer to the group.
Gabe was barely paying attention as his eyes were on Trish, who was being attended to by Danni. Gabe could see blood as the girls were struggling with the wound. He rushed over to their side and pulled his first aid kit out of his bag.
"Hey guys." Gabe said quietly as he looked at the wound. There was clearly a bullet lodged into Trish's leg, but it wasn't that deep. Gabe fished around for a pair of small tweezers and found them. After using the last of his own rubbing alcohol to clean the tool, Gabe spoke again.
"Danni, please just hold her hand or something, keep her calm while I get the bullet out. This is going to hurt."
Gabe spread the wound slightly and using the tweezers was able to remove the bullet.
"Umm...now that that is done, do you know how to sew the wound or patch it? I've never been good with that stuff."
Steve watched Gabe work only for a minute before turning to James Brown. Steve walked over to where he lay. He kneeled beside him and shook him on the shoulder a few times.
"Hey..umm, dude? You okay?"
It Hurts
it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
James wasn't sure what had hit him, but damn if it didn't feel like there were two bass drums thudding away to a speed metal song in his head. He sat up slowly, wincing in pain and rubbing the sore spot left by the assailant. He was still a little shocked and confused by the whole ordeal, but Trish and Danni were ok so that at least was a relief.
"I'm ok. Just some painium in the....euughh...cranium."
Honestly, James had no idea if these two guys who had peacefully joined the party could be trusted. It could all be a ruse. They could be hiding guns, or knives. They could have killed twenty students by now, each, and used fake names with the others to cover it up...
...but right now he'd have to give them the benefit of the doubt, because it hurt to think. It hurt to fucking think about thinking.
"I'm ok. Just some painium in the....euughh...cranium."
Honestly, James had no idea if these two guys who had peacefully joined the party could be trusted. It could all be a ruse. They could be hiding guns, or knives. They could have killed twenty students by now, each, and used fake names with the others to cover it up...
...but right now he'd have to give them the benefit of the doubt, because it hurt to think. It hurt to fucking think about thinking.
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Well, shit, wasn't this embarrassing?
The blood that had been before boiling behind her eyeballs had cooled and instead flushed throughout her cheeks in a red-hot simmer. She heard a hiss of concern from off in Trish's direction but was too ashamed of her outburst to look up. Instead, she struggled to a vertical position with a great deal of pain; first from the dull throb in her foot, then from the newly-earned bruise at her lower back, then a concerning ripple of pain in her innards, and finally an unpleasant twitter in her shoulder. Some dull sound filled the air around her, likely the announcements, but it seemed muffled by the blood pounding in her ears. She shifted the weight from her bad foot and swung her bags off into her good hand in an attempt to lessen the stress on her injuries. She glanced up to see Trish opening her mouth for what was most likely going to be that dreadful question, so she raised her free hand to stop it before it could hit the air.
"I'm... good. I'm fine." She forced a slight smile. "You?"
"Shot." Her smile was equally forced.
Danni attempted a laugh but it came out as more of a weak grunt. She swung her belongings over the fresh corpse to have them land on the other side. The impact splashed the other girl's legs with mug and only God knew what else. She gasped and breathed out an "I'msorry!". Trish raised her thumb in the universal gesture of "it's a'ight", though her face suggested otherwise. Danni was desperate to redeem herself for this misdeed.
"Okay, so um, roll over, and-"
Trish shook her head. "I'm okay. Go check on James."
Oh shit!
Danni gasped at James's mention. How could she forget about him? She whirled a one-footed forty-five degrees to see the heap of boy still piled just before the slope.
"Oh shit. Oh Christ. Okay."
She hobbled over, finally forsaking her upward position to trudge over on her knees at about halfway to her destination. The entire time, she prayed that the boy would regain consciousness before her arrival. Her wish was not granted. She realized there was a reason she had not bothered to pray in nearly eight years.
She circled the mound of clothing and flesh, trying to get in the ideal position to find a pulse. It was then that she also realized she had never taken a pulse before. She decided to wing it. After some groping she managed to locate a vein on the neck and found a steady beat. She wasn't sure if the rhythm itself was a good sign or not, but hey, at least it was there. There was also some shallow wheezing, which she took as another there sign. Feeling her work was done for the moment, she gave the unconscious boy an awkward pat on the head and began her arduous journey back to Trish.
After what was probably the most uncomfortable hobble of her short life, collapsing down next to her other fallen comrade and likely splashing even more mud her way. She dug through her daypack and removed the first kit she could spy. She didn't care to remember whether it was Jake's or hers. She opened it and removed a pair of clearish latex-alternative gloves. When she raised her head, Trish already had shifted her position to make the wound accessible, obviously unhappy about having her front in the mire but making no comment.
"Um...okay, so... do I..?..uh..."
The girl gingerly placed her hands around the wound. The other hissed. She lowered her fingers a little, trying to find the hidden hunk of hardware. The other gave a harsh cry. She dug more, causing blood to stream out and coming no closer to the malicious mineral missile. The cries only worsened.
---------------------------------
The events that transpired after gave her reason to believe in God again. Like two angel-medics straight from the Lord's infirmary, the football stars swooped in and attended to her incapacitated saviors. Danni watched with awe as Gabe produced the tweezers (tweezers! brilliant!). She hardly even minded that Trish's grip nearly crushed her own hand to dust, so happy was she to have the task lifted from her shoulders. She could have easily thrown herself at the boy and placed a sloppy, grateful kiss on his lips, had his next utterance not robbed her of her newfound elation and replaced it with more panic.
"Umm...now that that is done, do you know how to sew the wound or patch it? I've never been good with that stuff."
"No, I-"
Shit.
"Uh...Trish?"
The blood that had been before boiling behind her eyeballs had cooled and instead flushed throughout her cheeks in a red-hot simmer. She heard a hiss of concern from off in Trish's direction but was too ashamed of her outburst to look up. Instead, she struggled to a vertical position with a great deal of pain; first from the dull throb in her foot, then from the newly-earned bruise at her lower back, then a concerning ripple of pain in her innards, and finally an unpleasant twitter in her shoulder. Some dull sound filled the air around her, likely the announcements, but it seemed muffled by the blood pounding in her ears. She shifted the weight from her bad foot and swung her bags off into her good hand in an attempt to lessen the stress on her injuries. She glanced up to see Trish opening her mouth for what was most likely going to be that dreadful question, so she raised her free hand to stop it before it could hit the air.
"I'm... good. I'm fine." She forced a slight smile. "You?"
"Shot." Her smile was equally forced.
Danni attempted a laugh but it came out as more of a weak grunt. She swung her belongings over the fresh corpse to have them land on the other side. The impact splashed the other girl's legs with mug and only God knew what else. She gasped and breathed out an "I'msorry!". Trish raised her thumb in the universal gesture of "it's a'ight", though her face suggested otherwise. Danni was desperate to redeem herself for this misdeed.
"Okay, so um, roll over, and-"
Trish shook her head. "I'm okay. Go check on James."
Oh shit!
Danni gasped at James's mention. How could she forget about him? She whirled a one-footed forty-five degrees to see the heap of boy still piled just before the slope.
"Oh shit. Oh Christ. Okay."
She hobbled over, finally forsaking her upward position to trudge over on her knees at about halfway to her destination. The entire time, she prayed that the boy would regain consciousness before her arrival. Her wish was not granted. She realized there was a reason she had not bothered to pray in nearly eight years.
She circled the mound of clothing and flesh, trying to get in the ideal position to find a pulse. It was then that she also realized she had never taken a pulse before. She decided to wing it. After some groping she managed to locate a vein on the neck and found a steady beat. She wasn't sure if the rhythm itself was a good sign or not, but hey, at least it was there. There was also some shallow wheezing, which she took as another there sign. Feeling her work was done for the moment, she gave the unconscious boy an awkward pat on the head and began her arduous journey back to Trish.
After what was probably the most uncomfortable hobble of her short life, collapsing down next to her other fallen comrade and likely splashing even more mud her way. She dug through her daypack and removed the first kit she could spy. She didn't care to remember whether it was Jake's or hers. She opened it and removed a pair of clearish latex-alternative gloves. When she raised her head, Trish already had shifted her position to make the wound accessible, obviously unhappy about having her front in the mire but making no comment.
"Um...okay, so... do I..?..uh..."
The girl gingerly placed her hands around the wound. The other hissed. She lowered her fingers a little, trying to find the hidden hunk of hardware. The other gave a harsh cry. She dug more, causing blood to stream out and coming no closer to the malicious mineral missile. The cries only worsened.
---------------------------------
The events that transpired after gave her reason to believe in God again. Like two angel-medics straight from the Lord's infirmary, the football stars swooped in and attended to her incapacitated saviors. Danni watched with awe as Gabe produced the tweezers (tweezers! brilliant!). She hardly even minded that Trish's grip nearly crushed her own hand to dust, so happy was she to have the task lifted from her shoulders. She could have easily thrown herself at the boy and placed a sloppy, grateful kiss on his lips, had his next utterance not robbed her of her newfound elation and replaced it with more panic.
"Umm...now that that is done, do you know how to sew the wound or patch it? I've never been good with that stuff."
"No, I-"
Shit.
"Uh...Trish?"
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(Minor GMing of Danni approved by choic.)
Trish's breath caught sharply in her throat as Hayden's lifeless body collapsed to the ground, the bullet piercing right through his eye-socket and hitting its mark. Mud splashed around and covered Nick's corpse as he landed, but all Trish could manage was to stare at the body as it fell, unable to grasp the full magnitude of everything that had just transpired.
With Nick's corpse off of her she was finally able to pull herself into a sitting position, wincing all the while and muttering rapid, unintelligible curses under her breath. She dropped Nick's gun down to her side as she raised her injured leg up, attempting to get a better look at her wound. The bullet was lodged fairly shallowly into her leg, so much so that she could see part of it as she maneuvered her head around, but that didn't make it any less painful.
With some effort she managed to drag herself to the right a few feet, just enough to reach her pack and her AK-47 where they'd fallen. Now that they'd been almost simultaneously attacked twice within mere moments of each other she didn't plan on taking any more chances. Wandering into an open area like that had easily been the stupidest decision she'd ever made in her life. Unfortunately, somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that if she hadn't been so impatient in wanting to leave the mess hall that they probably wouldn't have forgotten Danni, and she wouldn't have found herself in this situation.
"...piece of shit MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD!"
Either Danni was reading her thoughts or her timing was absolutely perfect. She delivered a furious blow to Hayden's face and sent herself reeling into the ground afterwards somewhat pathetically, but Trish found it impossible to judge her. The three of them had managed to survive ten whole days on the island, and it was impossible to prevent things from getting to you at this point. It took all she had to prevent herself from bursting into wailing sobs from the sheer pain of the wound and the frustration of her situation, and having suffered an assault like Danni had she completely understood her violent outburst.
The announcements blared to life in the background as the adrenaline in Trish's system began to subside, which slowly but expontentially increased the throbbing of her wound. She closed and squinted her eyes shut tightly as she listened to Danya casually ramble off the names of the dead, the hot tears stinging her face once more as she heard Jessa's name among the list of the dead. The pain of the wound was what ultimately prompted their release, but the grief over the loss of her friend aided her silent expression of sorrow.
The list of names rattled on, but Trish barely heard any of them until Danya made a point of emphasizing the death of Adam Dodd. She'd always felt a tinge of pity for the redhead. He'd been unfairly ostracized by the majority of his classmates (and especially their parents), and whether or not it was his fault that their class had ended up here didn't matter to her. She felt incapable of blaming anyone other than Danya for Southridge's unfortunate fate. Adam had probably suffered more than the rest of them until the moment he died. She'd have made a point to think about Adam a little more, but at the moment her thoughts were pre-occupied by her intense pain, both physical and emotional.
Trish turned her attention to Danni as she opened her eyes, clearing her throat a little and attempting to force the pain out of her mind. She wiped the tearstains off her cheeks with her clean hand, and after clearing her throat was about to ask Danni how she was feeling before the girl interrupted her.
"I'm...good. I'm fine. You?"
"Shot," was all Trish could manage with a forced smile. Danni accidentally splashed a little mud on her arm as she scrambled over to help her, but all Trish could bring herself to do was re-assure her. Nick's deceptively heavy corpse would still be weighing down on her wound if not for Danni. Not to mention, she couldn't help but wonder how much pain she'd be in if she'd taken that beating instead.
"Okay, so um, roll over, and-..."
"I'm okay. Go check on James," she interrupted, and as if she'd just had a sudden revelation Danni clumsily hobbled over towards James to check on him. Trish took the opportunity in the meantime to drag Nick's pack over towards her, flicking the safety onto his gun (she now had a pretty clear concept of how these sorts of things worked) and placing it inside. She grabbed it and hefted it over to the other side of her body, placing it down beside Danni's pack and making a note to remind her of it later. Before now she'd been the only one of the three without a firearm, so at least now she'd have a good way to defend herself.
Danni returned from checking on James, and as she clumsily prodded around the bullet wound Trish found herself seething in pain. She felt her nails dig into the tender area afterwards which provoked a high-pitched yelp from Trish, and as they finished their three-part combination and scratched right across the bullet wound Trish screamed as if a demon were being exorcised from her body.
"FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"
Her wail was accompanied by a fresh burst of tears, and an even heavier burden of shame. Trish hated showing signs of weakness in front of other people, let alone crying, but the pain more unbearable than anything she'd ever felt before. She resisted the urge to sob helplessly, the tears streaming down her face as Danni pulled away from the wound.
Her cry had apparently attracted more attention though, and her grip tensed up on the AK as Steve and Gabe made their way out of the brush. Given Steve's initial reaction the last time they'd met she was hesitant to trust him, but as he approached James to check on him and him and Gabe lowered their guns, Trish respectfully did the same. She was in far too much pain to effectively fight, anyway.
Gabe McCallum was one of the few people on the island Trish could honestly say she didn't mind seeing. Her and Kara had been friends for a long time before Kara's sudden change of heart, which meant by extension Trish had shared quite a few good memories with Gabe. As he carefully took control of the situation Trish tried her best to relax and let him go to work - as far as she was concerned the bullet couldn't come out fast enough. As he gently pushed the wound apart she felt herself letting go of the gun and clenching onto Danni's forearm tightly, but before she knew it the bullet had been extracted.
When he finished, Trish exhaled a staggered breath and managed the first half-genuine smile she'd been able to make in a few days. "Thanks, Gabe..." she muttered weakly, letting go of Danni's arm shaking her head when he talked about sealing the cut up. Danni seemed to be pretty clueless on that front, and Trish didn't have the time or the energy to give her a sewing lesson.
"Just clean it out and bandage it and I should be fine. As long as nothing gets in..." She explained weakly. Through her pain she produced fairly weak logic, but she really didn't want to be here longer than she had to be. Her experience at the bridge was enough to inform her that she never wanted to come back.
She wasn't sure if it was the relative ease of the task or her concern for Trish, but Danni seemed to gather up her supplies and set to work on cleaning and bandaging the wound with surprising efficiency. She still did a fairly clumsy job of working her way around Trish to get to the wound (at one point Trish had to yank her jeans down around her knees just so Danni could position herself right, much to her shame given Gabe's presence right beside her), but after a few minutes she'd sterilized and wrapped it up tightly, prompting Trish to slip her jeans on over top of the dressing.
"Thanks, guys..." She managed, testing out the motion with her left leg. It was still painful, but with some help she was sure she'd get used to it. She'd have to. It hurt a lot less now that the bullet had been extracted as well. Trish gathered her pack up around her shoulders, slinging it over her back while still sitting on the ground. Once she'd managed that she got to her feet with Danni's help, gathering up the AK-47 as she rose. Upon seeing the gun she remembered Nick's gear, and turned to face Danni.
"I put Nick's gun in his pack. It's right beside yours. You should probably take that stuff, it looks like we'll really have to start using them now..." She was sure to whisper the last part so as not to make Gabe or Steve feel threatened at all. In the distance she heard James talking to Steve, which must've meant that he'd finally woken up, for which she was incredibly thankful.
Before approaching him however she turned to face Gabe, the expression of relief dropping off her face and being replaced with one of genuine remorse. "I'm...sorry about Kara," she struggled, shaking her head and patting Gabe on the shoulder with her free hand. The bitterness left between her and the Head Cheerleader was probably why her death hadn't affected Trish too much, but she refused to bring up any of that now. That was all in the past, and now Kara was dead. None of it mattered anymore.
After recollecting herself she gathered up James' handgun from Hayden's hand, which had already started to rigor. One of his fingers cracked sickeningly as she pried the Ballester-Molina away, but after she'd secured it she walked back over to James, making sure the safety was on before grabbing the gun by the barrel and offering it back to him.
"Are you feeling okay?" She asked first, checking to see if he was all right to go on without too much support. "I think we should get out of here, it's too dangerous..."
Trish's breath caught sharply in her throat as Hayden's lifeless body collapsed to the ground, the bullet piercing right through his eye-socket and hitting its mark. Mud splashed around and covered Nick's corpse as he landed, but all Trish could manage was to stare at the body as it fell, unable to grasp the full magnitude of everything that had just transpired.
With Nick's corpse off of her she was finally able to pull herself into a sitting position, wincing all the while and muttering rapid, unintelligible curses under her breath. She dropped Nick's gun down to her side as she raised her injured leg up, attempting to get a better look at her wound. The bullet was lodged fairly shallowly into her leg, so much so that she could see part of it as she maneuvered her head around, but that didn't make it any less painful.
With some effort she managed to drag herself to the right a few feet, just enough to reach her pack and her AK-47 where they'd fallen. Now that they'd been almost simultaneously attacked twice within mere moments of each other she didn't plan on taking any more chances. Wandering into an open area like that had easily been the stupidest decision she'd ever made in her life. Unfortunately, somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that if she hadn't been so impatient in wanting to leave the mess hall that they probably wouldn't have forgotten Danni, and she wouldn't have found herself in this situation.
"...piece of shit MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD!"
Either Danni was reading her thoughts or her timing was absolutely perfect. She delivered a furious blow to Hayden's face and sent herself reeling into the ground afterwards somewhat pathetically, but Trish found it impossible to judge her. The three of them had managed to survive ten whole days on the island, and it was impossible to prevent things from getting to you at this point. It took all she had to prevent herself from bursting into wailing sobs from the sheer pain of the wound and the frustration of her situation, and having suffered an assault like Danni had she completely understood her violent outburst.
The announcements blared to life in the background as the adrenaline in Trish's system began to subside, which slowly but expontentially increased the throbbing of her wound. She closed and squinted her eyes shut tightly as she listened to Danya casually ramble off the names of the dead, the hot tears stinging her face once more as she heard Jessa's name among the list of the dead. The pain of the wound was what ultimately prompted their release, but the grief over the loss of her friend aided her silent expression of sorrow.
The list of names rattled on, but Trish barely heard any of them until Danya made a point of emphasizing the death of Adam Dodd. She'd always felt a tinge of pity for the redhead. He'd been unfairly ostracized by the majority of his classmates (and especially their parents), and whether or not it was his fault that their class had ended up here didn't matter to her. She felt incapable of blaming anyone other than Danya for Southridge's unfortunate fate. Adam had probably suffered more than the rest of them until the moment he died. She'd have made a point to think about Adam a little more, but at the moment her thoughts were pre-occupied by her intense pain, both physical and emotional.
Trish turned her attention to Danni as she opened her eyes, clearing her throat a little and attempting to force the pain out of her mind. She wiped the tearstains off her cheeks with her clean hand, and after clearing her throat was about to ask Danni how she was feeling before the girl interrupted her.
"I'm...good. I'm fine. You?"
"Shot," was all Trish could manage with a forced smile. Danni accidentally splashed a little mud on her arm as she scrambled over to help her, but all Trish could bring herself to do was re-assure her. Nick's deceptively heavy corpse would still be weighing down on her wound if not for Danni. Not to mention, she couldn't help but wonder how much pain she'd be in if she'd taken that beating instead.
"Okay, so um, roll over, and-..."
"I'm okay. Go check on James," she interrupted, and as if she'd just had a sudden revelation Danni clumsily hobbled over towards James to check on him. Trish took the opportunity in the meantime to drag Nick's pack over towards her, flicking the safety onto his gun (she now had a pretty clear concept of how these sorts of things worked) and placing it inside. She grabbed it and hefted it over to the other side of her body, placing it down beside Danni's pack and making a note to remind her of it later. Before now she'd been the only one of the three without a firearm, so at least now she'd have a good way to defend herself.
Danni returned from checking on James, and as she clumsily prodded around the bullet wound Trish found herself seething in pain. She felt her nails dig into the tender area afterwards which provoked a high-pitched yelp from Trish, and as they finished their three-part combination and scratched right across the bullet wound Trish screamed as if a demon were being exorcised from her body.
"FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"
Her wail was accompanied by a fresh burst of tears, and an even heavier burden of shame. Trish hated showing signs of weakness in front of other people, let alone crying, but the pain more unbearable than anything she'd ever felt before. She resisted the urge to sob helplessly, the tears streaming down her face as Danni pulled away from the wound.
Her cry had apparently attracted more attention though, and her grip tensed up on the AK as Steve and Gabe made their way out of the brush. Given Steve's initial reaction the last time they'd met she was hesitant to trust him, but as he approached James to check on him and him and Gabe lowered their guns, Trish respectfully did the same. She was in far too much pain to effectively fight, anyway.
Gabe McCallum was one of the few people on the island Trish could honestly say she didn't mind seeing. Her and Kara had been friends for a long time before Kara's sudden change of heart, which meant by extension Trish had shared quite a few good memories with Gabe. As he carefully took control of the situation Trish tried her best to relax and let him go to work - as far as she was concerned the bullet couldn't come out fast enough. As he gently pushed the wound apart she felt herself letting go of the gun and clenching onto Danni's forearm tightly, but before she knew it the bullet had been extracted.
When he finished, Trish exhaled a staggered breath and managed the first half-genuine smile she'd been able to make in a few days. "Thanks, Gabe..." she muttered weakly, letting go of Danni's arm shaking her head when he talked about sealing the cut up. Danni seemed to be pretty clueless on that front, and Trish didn't have the time or the energy to give her a sewing lesson.
"Just clean it out and bandage it and I should be fine. As long as nothing gets in..." She explained weakly. Through her pain she produced fairly weak logic, but she really didn't want to be here longer than she had to be. Her experience at the bridge was enough to inform her that she never wanted to come back.
She wasn't sure if it was the relative ease of the task or her concern for Trish, but Danni seemed to gather up her supplies and set to work on cleaning and bandaging the wound with surprising efficiency. She still did a fairly clumsy job of working her way around Trish to get to the wound (at one point Trish had to yank her jeans down around her knees just so Danni could position herself right, much to her shame given Gabe's presence right beside her), but after a few minutes she'd sterilized and wrapped it up tightly, prompting Trish to slip her jeans on over top of the dressing.
"Thanks, guys..." She managed, testing out the motion with her left leg. It was still painful, but with some help she was sure she'd get used to it. She'd have to. It hurt a lot less now that the bullet had been extracted as well. Trish gathered her pack up around her shoulders, slinging it over her back while still sitting on the ground. Once she'd managed that she got to her feet with Danni's help, gathering up the AK-47 as she rose. Upon seeing the gun she remembered Nick's gear, and turned to face Danni.
"I put Nick's gun in his pack. It's right beside yours. You should probably take that stuff, it looks like we'll really have to start using them now..." She was sure to whisper the last part so as not to make Gabe or Steve feel threatened at all. In the distance she heard James talking to Steve, which must've meant that he'd finally woken up, for which she was incredibly thankful.
Before approaching him however she turned to face Gabe, the expression of relief dropping off her face and being replaced with one of genuine remorse. "I'm...sorry about Kara," she struggled, shaking her head and patting Gabe on the shoulder with her free hand. The bitterness left between her and the Head Cheerleader was probably why her death hadn't affected Trish too much, but she refused to bring up any of that now. That was all in the past, and now Kara was dead. None of it mattered anymore.
After recollecting herself she gathered up James' handgun from Hayden's hand, which had already started to rigor. One of his fingers cracked sickeningly as she pried the Ballester-Molina away, but after she'd secured it she walked back over to James, making sure the safety was on before grabbing the gun by the barrel and offering it back to him.
"Are you feeling okay?" She asked first, checking to see if he was all right to go on without too much support. "I think we should get out of here, it's too dangerous..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. 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.
Gabe surveyed the bandaging, turning away quickly when he was Trish pulling down her pants to give Danni more room to work. He felt very relieved that she was able to walk strong enough. Trish was still his friend after all. Her mention of Kara took him by surprise as he'd gone a day or two now without even thinking about her, and because of that a sickening wave of guilt came over him.
"I want to say it's okay, but it's not...not at all. At least from what I remember of the announcement, that Harris kid got everything he deserved, and is just lucky I didn't get a hold of him..." Gabe's voice trailed off as his mind drifted off into old thoughts.
------------
"Wish I could help you with the headache bro, but no can do. I kind of need mine seeing as I've got a hole or two in me." Steve said with the slightest of smiles. It felt good to take a situation lightly for the first time since before Evan had gone off his rocker.
Steve looked back to see that Gabe had managed to remove a bullet from Trish's leg, and that Trish was all patched up. He shifted nervously on the spot as the memory of the field of flowers came rushing back to him where he'd blown her off, almost threatening her in the process.
"Looks like we got your friend Trish there patched up good." Steve said as he extended a hand and helped James to his feet.
-----------
The thoughts of Kara instantly brought about thoughts of Viki Valentine and Gabe figured it was a good time to be honest. He knew Trish would understand, or at least hoped she would.
"Trish, Danni, James, I want you to know that Lenny Priestly was the one who killed Viki Valentine. Steve's been with Viki for the last few days helping her and protecting her, and we all met up at the quarry. I was with Evan, and well, we got into a fight that resulted in his death. I feel like shit for it, since I tried to save him. I know that sounds weird. Well after I got back, I helped Viki treat Steve's gunshot wound, but that's when Viki finally freaked out and took off. I patched up Steve and we heard her scream. That Lenny Priestly son of a bitch killed her for no reason. Absolutely no reason. So Steve and I swore we would take that mother fucker out. I don't want you three to judge Steve or myself for taking revenge on him, but, hell I don't even know if this makes sense, Lenny does not deserve to live. The longer we let him live, the more people die." Gabe began to cry as he finished the rant.
Steve stepped in and put his hand on Gabe's shoulder.
"I know I probably pissed you off a few day's ago Trish, and I do apologize for that, and like Gabe said, I don't know if you guys understand why we're going to do what we're going to do to Lenny, but I just hope you won't think of us the same way we're thinking of the people actually playing this fucking game."
Now knowing that Trish was going to be okay, and that James' wasn't seriously injured the boys decided it was time to leave. Neither one of them wanted to invite the three along with them and put them at risk. It was exactly like Gabe said, Lenny did not deserve to live and that was their main focus.
((Steve and Gabe continued elsewhere))
"I want to say it's okay, but it's not...not at all. At least from what I remember of the announcement, that Harris kid got everything he deserved, and is just lucky I didn't get a hold of him..." Gabe's voice trailed off as his mind drifted off into old thoughts.
------------
"Wish I could help you with the headache bro, but no can do. I kind of need mine seeing as I've got a hole or two in me." Steve said with the slightest of smiles. It felt good to take a situation lightly for the first time since before Evan had gone off his rocker.
Steve looked back to see that Gabe had managed to remove a bullet from Trish's leg, and that Trish was all patched up. He shifted nervously on the spot as the memory of the field of flowers came rushing back to him where he'd blown her off, almost threatening her in the process.
"Looks like we got your friend Trish there patched up good." Steve said as he extended a hand and helped James to his feet.
-----------
The thoughts of Kara instantly brought about thoughts of Viki Valentine and Gabe figured it was a good time to be honest. He knew Trish would understand, or at least hoped she would.
"Trish, Danni, James, I want you to know that Lenny Priestly was the one who killed Viki Valentine. Steve's been with Viki for the last few days helping her and protecting her, and we all met up at the quarry. I was with Evan, and well, we got into a fight that resulted in his death. I feel like shit for it, since I tried to save him. I know that sounds weird. Well after I got back, I helped Viki treat Steve's gunshot wound, but that's when Viki finally freaked out and took off. I patched up Steve and we heard her scream. That Lenny Priestly son of a bitch killed her for no reason. Absolutely no reason. So Steve and I swore we would take that mother fucker out. I don't want you three to judge Steve or myself for taking revenge on him, but, hell I don't even know if this makes sense, Lenny does not deserve to live. The longer we let him live, the more people die." Gabe began to cry as he finished the rant.
Steve stepped in and put his hand on Gabe's shoulder.
"I know I probably pissed you off a few day's ago Trish, and I do apologize for that, and like Gabe said, I don't know if you guys understand why we're going to do what we're going to do to Lenny, but I just hope you won't think of us the same way we're thinking of the people actually playing this fucking game."
Now knowing that Trish was going to be okay, and that James' wasn't seriously injured the boys decided it was time to leave. Neither one of them wanted to invite the three along with them and put them at risk. It was exactly like Gabe said, Lenny did not deserve to live and that was their main focus.
((Steve and Gabe continued elsewhere))
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
James grumbled at Steve's joke, a tired half-smile playing on his features as the other boy helped him to his feet. He felt a little unstable for a moment, but his equilibrium soon righted itself and he was confident that--despite his throbbing head--he was good to go.
"Thanks."
Trish handed him back his gun and asked if he was feeling okay. That was a difficult question to answer at the moment. He'd been thrown into a scenario that few people would ever find themselves in, one where there was little hope of survival at all, especially if you made the decision to stand by your friends. James was becoming more and more convinced with every passing day on this island that his life was nearing its end, cut short by sixty or seventy years full of all sorts of things he still wanted to do. How much longer did he have? Days? Hours?
...Minutes?
Hard as it was to think about--having no future--James took comfort in having his friends there beside him. Maybe it was naive to think that they'd stand by eachother until the end, but he believed in his heart that he could do it, and trusted the others to as well. So what if they died. You know what? Fuck the bullshit survival instinct. It only delayed the inevitable anyway. What was really important was how you lived what life you had, not how long you had to live it. James would die standing for something. For someone.
"I'm alright. Just glad to see you guys are, too. That was a fuckin' close one, wasn't it?" James felt a corner of his mouth curl up, and within a second he was grinning toothily at Trish and Danni. He didn't care that it probably looked ridiculous. It was batshit crazy, but as James looked back and forth between the two people whom he'd just shared a life-or-death experience with...whom he was sharing this life-or-death experience with...he really was feeling okay.
Gabe and Steve couldn't stay. They had some serious shit to do. James nodded solemnly at them, not being able to find it within himself to say anything but "Take care." He hoped they did.
Danni and Trish seemed ready to go. Trish had taken a bullet to the leg though, so they'd probably have to slow down a bit. Maybe find somewhere else to hole up for a while. James hefted his daypack and examined the weapon in his hand, the realization finally setting in that he'd just killed someone. It was a weird feeling, a complicated one, but he found with some surprise that it really wasn't all that hard to deal with. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was not knowing the guy. Or maybe it was because he felt justified protecting his friends.
((continued elsewhere...))
"Thanks."
Trish handed him back his gun and asked if he was feeling okay. That was a difficult question to answer at the moment. He'd been thrown into a scenario that few people would ever find themselves in, one where there was little hope of survival at all, especially if you made the decision to stand by your friends. James was becoming more and more convinced with every passing day on this island that his life was nearing its end, cut short by sixty or seventy years full of all sorts of things he still wanted to do. How much longer did he have? Days? Hours?
...Minutes?
Hard as it was to think about--having no future--James took comfort in having his friends there beside him. Maybe it was naive to think that they'd stand by eachother until the end, but he believed in his heart that he could do it, and trusted the others to as well. So what if they died. You know what? Fuck the bullshit survival instinct. It only delayed the inevitable anyway. What was really important was how you lived what life you had, not how long you had to live it. James would die standing for something. For someone.
"I'm alright. Just glad to see you guys are, too. That was a fuckin' close one, wasn't it?" James felt a corner of his mouth curl up, and within a second he was grinning toothily at Trish and Danni. He didn't care that it probably looked ridiculous. It was batshit crazy, but as James looked back and forth between the two people whom he'd just shared a life-or-death experience with...whom he was sharing this life-or-death experience with...he really was feeling okay.
Gabe and Steve couldn't stay. They had some serious shit to do. James nodded solemnly at them, not being able to find it within himself to say anything but "Take care." He hoped they did.
Danni and Trish seemed ready to go. Trish had taken a bullet to the leg though, so they'd probably have to slow down a bit. Maybe find somewhere else to hole up for a while. James hefted his daypack and examined the weapon in his hand, the realization finally setting in that he'd just killed someone. It was a weird feeling, a complicated one, but he found with some surprise that it really wasn't all that hard to deal with. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was not knowing the guy. Or maybe it was because he felt justified protecting his friends.
((continued elsewhere...))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Cyco. 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.
If Trish was surprised by Danni's competence, Danni herself was astounded. The hands that moved before her with a semi-graceful fluidity could not have been hers. Danielle Champney, internet whore extraordinaire, the girl who couldn't even get prostitution or exhibition right, could not be doing something well. In a way, she supposed it wasn't Danielle Champney, or Danni. They had died eight days ago. This new girl had taken their place. She killed them out of necessity. She threw their corpses out with the make-up and the laptop and all the rest of the junk she'd tossed across the jungle floor. When she thought back on it, it really had all been very symbolic, hadn't it? It was a funeral for Danni. It was a housewarming party for this new being, the Survivor, the Nurse, the Not-Quite-Danni. And that was not such a bad thing, not at all. This new girl had something Danni had always lacked. Her parents, as loving and patient as they were, had failed to provide it to her and instead satiated and sedated her with so much coddling. She'd never had the guidance to reach it. There was never any clear Point B to get to from her Point A. But this new girl had a destination clearly in mind. She wanted to live. She wanted Trish to live. She wanted James to live. She had something Danni was far too weak to ever have. It made the new girl wish she had done it sooner. She could have waited until Danni fell asleep one night long ago, taken a knife to her throat, done the deed and then taken her place. This new girl wished she'd known she could have ever existed. She wished she hadn't taken this damn island to be her birth mother. But in the end it didn't matter. She may have been a defective child with little time to enjoy her new life, but there was this and this was enough:
For the first time in her life, Danielle Champney had a true reason for being. She had a purpose.
"...There we go. All patched up," the new girl said with lips that once belonged to a weaker person. She finished taping the two thick pads of gauze to the leg with soft (and blessedly waterproofed) medical tape, surveyed her masterpiece for a moment, and helped her companion readjust her mud-soaked jeans. In another life, she thought, she could have been a nurse. She had always had some fascination with the medical. She had been completely enamored with the anatomy class she'd taken over the last year (how many eternities ago was that? months days weeks seconds?). Not to mention that risque little nurse's costume she had in the back of her closet. She'd convinced her mother to buy it the September of her sophomore year. It was a "Halloween costume". One that was never worn trick-or-treating. The only eyes to have ever seen it, to have scanned its low bust line and tight-fitting hips (both unflattering on her, she knew, but there's nothing wrong with a little pretend [there's everything wrong with a little pretend] ) were those of sweaty, dirty men on the other end of plastic and wires and (thank goodness for this) miles. New Girl would have worn it out. She had so many thing she'd have wanted people to see. Not just her inadequate form, and not just to unctuous old men and drenched, clammy adolescent boys. Another realization come too late, or rather, the same realization from earlier come in a different form to taunt and tease and torment her like a devil. Not even New Danni dared to dream of her survival. Her faith was in preservation and prolongation and, that glowing word, purpose.
While Trish & Gabe had their personal moment, Danni knelt back down and ransacked the dead boy's pack. She turned the handgun over in her right hand a few times. Old Danni would have buried that thing deep in her own pack. She would never have the spine to use it. She would die and Death would take her gun and use it to kill more kids with more guns. Bye bye Ms. Statistic. To this, New Danni said fuck that noise. She lifted her ratty bright green hoodie, and the rattier gray American Apparel dress, and slipped the gun in the waistband of her tights. She placed the lighest box of ammunition in her 50% acrylic, 25% modal, 25% wool marsupium and placed the rest in her pack. She tossed out three empty water bottles. She knew they were hers. She hadn't touched Jake's. She didn't think she ever could, even in the event that she was dying of thirst. She shouldn't be drinking from them. He should. And she was damn sure Trish would prefer his company to hers. But the Fates and Life and God would not allow it. The good die young and the meek inherit the earth.
She tossed the water bottles in. His, she would not have a problem from. In fact, she took a large gulp from the last before it found its new home in her pack. She pawed through the remaining contents, but upon finding no food amongst the ruins told her hands to call off the expedition. She zipped her own closed and raised it to her shoulder as she herself raised her body from the ground.
She turned as her two angels made their exit and was not comforted by their words. Lenny fucking Preistly. She remembered how several days earlier the crazy cunt had pinned her to a tree. He reeked of insanity and murder even then. Anna's murder was unforgivable, but at this point the boy didn't seem to be seeking redemption. She hoped if she ever met Lenny again, it would be in hell, where they both belonged.
The footballers left and James shot them a let's go look. Danni made a mental note to hug the boy at the next opportunity. Maybe kiss him if she felt so inclined. By virtues of circumstance, James Brown had become she first boy she fell in love with. Nonetheless, his eyes were right; their time here was up. Time to say their goodbyes.
Danni took a last look at the boy who tried to kill her. He stared back with a stupid indifference. An idea floated up in her mind. It pooled in her mouth with her saliva. It was delicious. She swirled it around in her mouth, savoring its taste. She then spat it out in a wad of H2O and enzyme and pure malicious thought. It hit the stony face with a splash. It was satisfying as hell. Contented, Danni walked over to her shaky legged companion and slipped her shoulder under her right arm.
"Watch it babe, you're a little off balance."
The new girl turned her face to an old friend and gave a playful, toothy grin.
"Now let's fuckin' blow this popsicle stand."
((Danielle Champney continued elsewhere))
For the first time in her life, Danielle Champney had a true reason for being. She had a purpose.
"...There we go. All patched up," the new girl said with lips that once belonged to a weaker person. She finished taping the two thick pads of gauze to the leg with soft (and blessedly waterproofed) medical tape, surveyed her masterpiece for a moment, and helped her companion readjust her mud-soaked jeans. In another life, she thought, she could have been a nurse. She had always had some fascination with the medical. She had been completely enamored with the anatomy class she'd taken over the last year (how many eternities ago was that? months days weeks seconds?). Not to mention that risque little nurse's costume she had in the back of her closet. She'd convinced her mother to buy it the September of her sophomore year. It was a "Halloween costume". One that was never worn trick-or-treating. The only eyes to have ever seen it, to have scanned its low bust line and tight-fitting hips (both unflattering on her, she knew, but there's nothing wrong with a little pretend [there's everything wrong with a little pretend] ) were those of sweaty, dirty men on the other end of plastic and wires and (thank goodness for this) miles. New Girl would have worn it out. She had so many thing she'd have wanted people to see. Not just her inadequate form, and not just to unctuous old men and drenched, clammy adolescent boys. Another realization come too late, or rather, the same realization from earlier come in a different form to taunt and tease and torment her like a devil. Not even New Danni dared to dream of her survival. Her faith was in preservation and prolongation and, that glowing word, purpose.
While Trish & Gabe had their personal moment, Danni knelt back down and ransacked the dead boy's pack. She turned the handgun over in her right hand a few times. Old Danni would have buried that thing deep in her own pack. She would never have the spine to use it. She would die and Death would take her gun and use it to kill more kids with more guns. Bye bye Ms. Statistic. To this, New Danni said fuck that noise. She lifted her ratty bright green hoodie, and the rattier gray American Apparel dress, and slipped the gun in the waistband of her tights. She placed the lighest box of ammunition in her 50% acrylic, 25% modal, 25% wool marsupium and placed the rest in her pack. She tossed out three empty water bottles. She knew they were hers. She hadn't touched Jake's. She didn't think she ever could, even in the event that she was dying of thirst. She shouldn't be drinking from them. He should. And she was damn sure Trish would prefer his company to hers. But the Fates and Life and God would not allow it. The good die young and the meek inherit the earth.
She tossed the water bottles in. His, she would not have a problem from. In fact, she took a large gulp from the last before it found its new home in her pack. She pawed through the remaining contents, but upon finding no food amongst the ruins told her hands to call off the expedition. She zipped her own closed and raised it to her shoulder as she herself raised her body from the ground.
She turned as her two angels made their exit and was not comforted by their words. Lenny fucking Preistly. She remembered how several days earlier the crazy cunt had pinned her to a tree. He reeked of insanity and murder even then. Anna's murder was unforgivable, but at this point the boy didn't seem to be seeking redemption. She hoped if she ever met Lenny again, it would be in hell, where they both belonged.
The footballers left and James shot them a let's go look. Danni made a mental note to hug the boy at the next opportunity. Maybe kiss him if she felt so inclined. By virtues of circumstance, James Brown had become she first boy she fell in love with. Nonetheless, his eyes were right; their time here was up. Time to say their goodbyes.
Danni took a last look at the boy who tried to kill her. He stared back with a stupid indifference. An idea floated up in her mind. It pooled in her mouth with her saliva. It was delicious. She swirled it around in her mouth, savoring its taste. She then spat it out in a wad of H2O and enzyme and pure malicious thought. It hit the stony face with a splash. It was satisfying as hell. Contented, Danni walked over to her shaky legged companion and slipped her shoulder under her right arm.
"Watch it babe, you're a little off balance."
The new girl turned her face to an old friend and gave a playful, toothy grin.
"Now let's fuckin' blow this popsicle stand."
((Danielle Champney continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nope. 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.
(Sorry for the disappointing post. I'm very uninspired at the moment and this thread, like most of the others has gone on way too long.)
Danni's sudden attitude change was slightly stunning at first, but in Trish's opinion it was a most welcome one. The edgy Danni she'd had the pleasure of befriending at Southridge seemed to have finally returned, for which she was thankful; both for the sake of her friend's sanity and the fact that she'd probably be a more useful ally now. When Danni suggested leaving, Trish nodded sincerely, whispering a rushed "thanks" as her friend braced her and the two began slowly walking away.
"Yeah...let's get the hell out of here," she whispered, taking a quick glance back at the bridge. Part of her hoped she never had to come back.
(Trish McCarroll finally continued in There's A Moral In This Somewhere)
Danni's sudden attitude change was slightly stunning at first, but in Trish's opinion it was a most welcome one. The edgy Danni she'd had the pleasure of befriending at Southridge seemed to have finally returned, for which she was thankful; both for the sake of her friend's sanity and the fact that she'd probably be a more useful ally now. When Danni suggested leaving, Trish nodded sincerely, whispering a rushed "thanks" as her friend braced her and the two began slowly walking away.
"Yeah...let's get the hell out of here," she whispered, taking a quick glance back at the bridge. Part of her hoped she never had to come back.
(Trish McCarroll finally continued in There's A Moral In This Somewhere)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. 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.