“I dunno, I dunno!”, Zach said a panicked voice. He crawled his way toward the tree Matt took cover behind.
What the fuck was that!? He never thought his gun would do that. The damn thing fired like a cannon! Did Willow rip him off? No, no, he couldn’t think about that right now. Did he miss? Based on the gunfire, Erika must have retaliated.
“Where’s that damn bitch?“, Zach grumbled, rising to his feet.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to any lingering dust out of his vision. The area was now covered in gunpowder smoke. The smell was strong. He couldn’t see Erika, dead or alive, anywhere.
“You see anything?”, Zach asked Matt, “I gotta reload.”
Zach opened his bag and took out seven bullets. He had a total of 21 bullets remaining after his initial attack. If he was gonna use this thing at it’s most powerful, he needed to make these shots count.
Piece By Piece
Day 12, Post-Announcements. Private.
B018: Ned Jackson- 
G039: Yuki Hayashibara- 
B034: Zachary Beck- -
Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
Matthew poked his head out around the other side of the tree, hoping to spot Erika among the more visible areas around them. After a few seconds of doing so, he moved it back behind the thick trunk.
"I can barely see shit because of the smoke from your gun!" Matthew said, putting emphasis on smoke and gun. The smoke is helping with keeping out of her line of sight, yes, but knowing her general area is more important. Did Zach even use that thing before? Probably not, considering how it practically knocked him flat on his ass.
With no better ideas, Matthew raised his shotgun towards her direction before firing again, hoping to get a reaction of some sort from her.
Two.
After a few more seconds of waiting, nothing happened. No gunshots back at them, no cry of alarm, no sound at all asides from their breathing.
"Did she fucking run off?" he whispered, looking back at Zach. Almost immediately afterwards, he shook his head, having realized the answer to his own question. With Erika's kill count, it would be a miracle if she didn't try to chase them down for this. That's got to be how she runs at this point. Eliminate the threats right now so that they don't get the chance to ambush you again in the future.
Seeing Zach reloading reminded Matthew to do the same while they still have a moment to breathe. Taking three shells from his pocket, he pushed the cylinder out and inserted them into the empty holes before pushing it back in, ready to fire again. But considering the fact that they have no idea where the hell she is, he's going to have to use the scope on his still-unused sniper rifle to pinpoint her location. Grabbing it and slinging the shotgun onto his back, he looked at Zach again.
"I'll go on ahead. Try to keep up."
With that, he took a few deep breaths and, firmly gripping the rifle, walked out and around his precious cover. There, he moved carefully from tree to tree, doing his best to not make a sound.
"I can barely see shit because of the smoke from your gun!" Matthew said, putting emphasis on smoke and gun. The smoke is helping with keeping out of her line of sight, yes, but knowing her general area is more important. Did Zach even use that thing before? Probably not, considering how it practically knocked him flat on his ass.
With no better ideas, Matthew raised his shotgun towards her direction before firing again, hoping to get a reaction of some sort from her.
Two.
After a few more seconds of waiting, nothing happened. No gunshots back at them, no cry of alarm, no sound at all asides from their breathing.
"Did she fucking run off?" he whispered, looking back at Zach. Almost immediately afterwards, he shook his head, having realized the answer to his own question. With Erika's kill count, it would be a miracle if she didn't try to chase them down for this. That's got to be how she runs at this point. Eliminate the threats right now so that they don't get the chance to ambush you again in the future.
Seeing Zach reloading reminded Matthew to do the same while they still have a moment to breathe. Taking three shells from his pocket, he pushed the cylinder out and inserted them into the empty holes before pushing it back in, ready to fire again. But considering the fact that they have no idea where the hell she is, he's going to have to use the scope on his still-unused sniper rifle to pinpoint her location. Grabbing it and slinging the shotgun onto his back, he looked at Zach again.
"I'll go on ahead. Try to keep up."
With that, he took a few deep breaths and, firmly gripping the rifle, walked out and around his precious cover. There, he moved carefully from tree to tree, doing his best to not make a sound.
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Another gunshot sent Erika darting back behind cover, but the character of the sound forced her to stop halfway. It echoed away from her, instead of towards her. Sounded more like the gunshots she was used to back home, than the ones she had to get used to in this place.
They didn’t run away, and they didn’t know where she was. At least Blue Shirt was gonna stand and fight. Erika couldn’t guess whether Zach had the same idea either. There wasn’t any reason for him not to, not this late in the game.The barrels of that flintlock monstrosity took thirty seconds to a minute to load, at least. Not that it made her feel any better about the odds.
Big guy had two guns. Hope he’s not feeling generous.
The pistol didn’t waver in her hands. Erika kept it trained out to where the shots sounded like they were coming from. Waiting to see Zach’s tiny frame, or the bright blue shirt. One of these masses of green and brown concealed them, kept them out of reach. The only question was, which one?
Time to find out.
Keeping the pistol trained in the direction she thought the fire might’ve been coming from, Erika reached back into the side pocket of her bag, drawing out the collar radar. Not taking her eyes off of the woods ahead of her, it took a bit more time to switch on. After feeling around for the power switch and pressing down, she peeked down at the display.
Two dots, further out than she expected. One still in place, the other moving slowly. Not directly at her, but in the right direction. She peeked out again, but couldn’t see anything through the branches and smoke.
Fuck! Erika mouthed, tucking the collar radar into her back pocket and scooping the Martini-Henry off the ground. It took longer than she wanted to summon up the courage to leave cover, bolting after a breathless moment’s hesitation. She ran laterally, skipping over a fallen log on the way. The impact sent shards of pain up her leg, the sensation only pushing her further. Just a taste of what failure would feel like.
Coming to a stop by a tree that was only just too narrow to use as cover, she tucked the pistol into her waistband and took hold of the Martini-Henry. Whoever he was, he needed to go down fast.
Has to be one shot. Don’t know what Zach’s up to.
Erika wiped her sweaty palms off on her sleeves one at a time, before readjusting her grip on the rifle. He should've been no more than twenty yards away, almost right in front of her as she emerged from behind the tree.
Center mass, high and to the right.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t fuck up.
He wasn't.
They didn’t run away, and they didn’t know where she was. At least Blue Shirt was gonna stand and fight. Erika couldn’t guess whether Zach had the same idea either. There wasn’t any reason for him not to, not this late in the game.The barrels of that flintlock monstrosity took thirty seconds to a minute to load, at least. Not that it made her feel any better about the odds.
Big guy had two guns. Hope he’s not feeling generous.
The pistol didn’t waver in her hands. Erika kept it trained out to where the shots sounded like they were coming from. Waiting to see Zach’s tiny frame, or the bright blue shirt. One of these masses of green and brown concealed them, kept them out of reach. The only question was, which one?
Time to find out.
Keeping the pistol trained in the direction she thought the fire might’ve been coming from, Erika reached back into the side pocket of her bag, drawing out the collar radar. Not taking her eyes off of the woods ahead of her, it took a bit more time to switch on. After feeling around for the power switch and pressing down, she peeked down at the display.
Two dots, further out than she expected. One still in place, the other moving slowly. Not directly at her, but in the right direction. She peeked out again, but couldn’t see anything through the branches and smoke.
Fuck! Erika mouthed, tucking the collar radar into her back pocket and scooping the Martini-Henry off the ground. It took longer than she wanted to summon up the courage to leave cover, bolting after a breathless moment’s hesitation. She ran laterally, skipping over a fallen log on the way. The impact sent shards of pain up her leg, the sensation only pushing her further. Just a taste of what failure would feel like.
Coming to a stop by a tree that was only just too narrow to use as cover, she tucked the pistol into her waistband and took hold of the Martini-Henry. Whoever he was, he needed to go down fast.
Has to be one shot. Don’t know what Zach’s up to.
Erika wiped her sweaty palms off on her sleeves one at a time, before readjusting her grip on the rifle. He should've been no more than twenty yards away, almost right in front of her as she emerged from behind the tree.
Center mass, high and to the right.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t fuck up.
He wasn't.
“Okay, Uh, right behind you,” Zach said as he continued to reload.
He remembered the instructions and tried his best to follow the method that was needed for this old gun. Zach felt like a soldier during the Revolution. He put a ball and some gunpowder down each hole, then rammed it down tight with a rod. Damn it, he really did get screwed by Willow, didn’t he?
As Zach, looked over to Matt, who was still scouting the area for Erika, he thought of something. He couldn’t survive against anyone with this archaic piece of shit, he needed something more practical. Something like Matt’s shotgun.
“Hey! You think I could borrow that shotgun?”, he shouted at Matt, “This is kinda taking a while.”
He remembered the instructions and tried his best to follow the method that was needed for this old gun. Zach felt like a soldier during the Revolution. He put a ball and some gunpowder down each hole, then rammed it down tight with a rod. Damn it, he really did get screwed by Willow, didn’t he?
As Zach, looked over to Matt, who was still scouting the area for Erika, he thought of something. He couldn’t survive against anyone with this archaic piece of shit, he needed something more practical. Something like Matt’s shotgun.
“Hey! You think I could borrow that shotgun?”, he shouted at Matt, “This is kinda taking a while.”
-
Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
"Shut up!" Matthew said quietly through his clenched teeth, "You want her to know where we're at?!"
Even if they weren't in danger of being killed by Erika, giving Zach his shotgun was out of the question. What's stopping him from running off with it the second she gains an advantage over them? Or even after they manage to kill her? This late in the game, anybody with a lick of common sense is going to need every bit of firepower they can get their hands on.
This is the only time they teamed up so far and that's solely because they have the same goal. The second that's done and they deal with Justin, it's likely going to be open season. Zach might operate on that same line of thinking. Simple, really.
Matthew passed by a few more trees, occasionally taking cover behind one for a dozen seconds or two. He was about to move again when he heard a noise that neither of them made. It sounded like...footsteps, maybe? Regardless of what it exactly was, it was unnatural in nature. His heart is in overdrive at this point, feeling every rapid beat as he raised the rifle, the scope at eye level.
Sweating like crazy, he took another deep breath before moving himself out of cover again. Looking through the scope, he searched from side to side, mainly the direction towards where he thought the noise came from. He came across one narrow-looking tree-
-Erika's right there.
Matthew almost flinched, but he managed to keep his hands steady and aimed the cross-hairs over her chest. One shot was all he needed. One shot will end her killing spree for good. One shot will avenge all those she murdered.
One shot was all he needed to go home.
Erika's eyes turned to meet him just in time for him to squeeze the trigger, the loud boom echoing through the forest. It was right on target.
Even if they weren't in danger of being killed by Erika, giving Zach his shotgun was out of the question. What's stopping him from running off with it the second she gains an advantage over them? Or even after they manage to kill her? This late in the game, anybody with a lick of common sense is going to need every bit of firepower they can get their hands on.
This is the only time they teamed up so far and that's solely because they have the same goal. The second that's done and they deal with Justin, it's likely going to be open season. Zach might operate on that same line of thinking. Simple, really.
Matthew passed by a few more trees, occasionally taking cover behind one for a dozen seconds or two. He was about to move again when he heard a noise that neither of them made. It sounded like...footsteps, maybe? Regardless of what it exactly was, it was unnatural in nature. His heart is in overdrive at this point, feeling every rapid beat as he raised the rifle, the scope at eye level.
Sweating like crazy, he took another deep breath before moving himself out of cover again. Looking through the scope, he searched from side to side, mainly the direction towards where he thought the noise came from. He came across one narrow-looking tree-
-Erika's right there.
Matthew almost flinched, but he managed to keep his hands steady and aimed the cross-hairs over her chest. One shot was all he needed. One shot will end her killing spree for good. One shot will avenge all those she murdered.
One shot was all he needed to go home.
Erika's eyes turned to meet him just in time for him to squeeze the trigger, the loud boom echoing through the forest. It was right on target.
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Erika’s eyes widened as they met another set, one hidden behind the glass of a rifle scope. The meteoric impact of the powerful rifle round was matched only by the intensely loud report of the rifle.
She flinched, not because she was actually hit, but from the sensation of wood splinters impacting her shoulder. Glancing briefly to her side, she saw a massive hole blown in the tree she’d been using for cover. The impact was significant enough to have left a sizable split in the wood creeping out from two sides of the bullet hole.
A liberal estimate of the distance between them would’ve been twenty or thirty yards, at most. He had a scope, and a steady position. It didn’t seem possible to miss a person-sized target at this distance, not with a rifle like that. Even for someone who didn't know how to shoot, it was nothing short of miraculous.
Unless it wasn't his aim that was the problem.
Erika shook her head, then knelt forward and aimed the Martini-Henry at the boy now working the bolt on his sniper rifle. She squinted down the blackened iron sights, positioning the front sight low and to the left of his chest to compensate for the gun’s natural grouping. The bright blue shirt presented quite an easy target, amidst the sea of greens.
Thick smoke and burning embers erupted from the obsolescent rifle as Erika’s retort echoed back through the woods.
She flinched, not because she was actually hit, but from the sensation of wood splinters impacting her shoulder. Glancing briefly to her side, she saw a massive hole blown in the tree she’d been using for cover. The impact was significant enough to have left a sizable split in the wood creeping out from two sides of the bullet hole.
A liberal estimate of the distance between them would’ve been twenty or thirty yards, at most. He had a scope, and a steady position. It didn’t seem possible to miss a person-sized target at this distance, not with a rifle like that. Even for someone who didn't know how to shoot, it was nothing short of miraculous.
Unless it wasn't his aim that was the problem.
Erika shook her head, then knelt forward and aimed the Martini-Henry at the boy now working the bolt on his sniper rifle. She squinted down the blackened iron sights, positioning the front sight low and to the left of his chest to compensate for the gun’s natural grouping. The bright blue shirt presented quite an easy target, amidst the sea of greens.
Thick smoke and burning embers erupted from the obsolescent rifle as Erika’s retort echoed back through the woods.
-
Super Weegee
- Posts: 224
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 6:14 pm
And it missed. Matthew's eyes widened and he began to backpedal away from her in panic. How did he not hit her?! Did he move his hand at the last second?! While Erika was distracted by looking at the tree he hit instead, he tried to shoot her again, only for nothing to happen. Glancing back down at his rifle, he realized that it was a bolt action one.
Shit, shit, shit! Reload, RELOAD, RELOAD!
Immediately, his hands flew to the bolt, pulling it upwards and backwards, chambering a new bullet. All the while, Erika didn't waste any time aiming her own rifle back at him, the sight of which caused him to rapidly backpedal. He lowered the bolt back down and moved to raise it towards her, but she proved to be quicker and fired back at him.
The next thing Matthew felt was an explosion in his throat. His rifle flew from his hands and he collapsed to the ground. At first, his mind was at a blank, as if it was still comprehending what happened. When he tried to clamber back to his feet, all he could see was the sight of his blood coating the grass and dirt beneath him. Blood that is liberally pouring out from the giant hole from his throat.
Then came the pain as his brain caught up to the fact that he got shot.
He would've shouted both from how much it hurts and from the shock, but gurgling sounds was all he could make as he collapsed face-first into his own blood, using a hand to put pressure on the wound with as much strength as he can muster. An effort that proved quickly to be useless due to just how huge of a hole it was.
The excruciating pain only became more intense in those couple seconds, his attempts at a loud wail being replaced by more gurgling. Erika and Zach didn't exist anymore from his perspective. There was only him, all alone among the numerous trees and bushes of the forest with only one goal in mind. Staying alive.
Still holding his gaping wound, he used his free arm to desperately drag himself forwards. His open throat continued to squirt out blood at a heavy pace, coating the ground and leaving a steady trail of it. After a few more seconds, his strength started to get weaker and the environment around him began to darken.
Oh god, please don't let me die I want to get out of here please I will live I have first aid I can patch myself up l love you mom and dad I always will
Matthew soon didn't have the strength to lift his arms anymore and he remained still, blackness consuming his vision with unconsciousness soon following.
Shit, shit, shit! Reload, RELOAD, RELOAD!
Immediately, his hands flew to the bolt, pulling it upwards and backwards, chambering a new bullet. All the while, Erika didn't waste any time aiming her own rifle back at him, the sight of which caused him to rapidly backpedal. He lowered the bolt back down and moved to raise it towards her, but she proved to be quicker and fired back at him.
The next thing Matthew felt was an explosion in his throat. His rifle flew from his hands and he collapsed to the ground. At first, his mind was at a blank, as if it was still comprehending what happened. When he tried to clamber back to his feet, all he could see was the sight of his blood coating the grass and dirt beneath him. Blood that is liberally pouring out from the giant hole from his throat.
Then came the pain as his brain caught up to the fact that he got shot.
He would've shouted both from how much it hurts and from the shock, but gurgling sounds was all he could make as he collapsed face-first into his own blood, using a hand to put pressure on the wound with as much strength as he can muster. An effort that proved quickly to be useless due to just how huge of a hole it was.
The excruciating pain only became more intense in those couple seconds, his attempts at a loud wail being replaced by more gurgling. Erika and Zach didn't exist anymore from his perspective. There was only him, all alone among the numerous trees and bushes of the forest with only one goal in mind. Staying alive.
Still holding his gaping wound, he used his free arm to desperately drag himself forwards. His open throat continued to squirt out blood at a heavy pace, coating the ground and leaving a steady trail of it. After a few more seconds, his strength started to get weaker and the environment around him began to darken.
Oh god, please don't let me die I want to get out of here please I will live I have first aid I can patch myself up l love you mom and dad I always will
Matthew soon didn't have the strength to lift his arms anymore and he remained still, blackness consuming his vision with unconsciousness soon following.
B016 Matthew Hunt - Deceased
20 Students Remaining
20 Students Remaining
V8 Relationships Thread
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
Brook Peterson
Lula Gray Any thoughts or criticisms on my writing are welcome and appreciated! Feel free to message me on Discord.
As Matt fired his sniper rifle, Zach finished loading the his gun. The rifle’s gunfire sounded poignant and powerful. Damn, Zach needed a weapon like that! Just then, he heard another shot.
When Zach came out from behind the tree, he saw Matt, holding his neck, falling forward. The grass and dirt were dyed in a thick red color. Matt groveled a bit before he stopped moving altogether. Zach’s spine was ice cold.
Zach quickly made his way over to Matt’s body. Matt was dead. For sure, no one could survive a wound that obliterated their neck. Now, Zach was left alone to deal with the psycho bitch.
Zach, wanting to arm himself with a more useful weapon, tried to pry the shotgun from Matt’s limp body. However, Matt’s heavy body made removing the gun slung over his back difficult. Zach had to keep in mind, Erika was still nearby.
...
“Fuck this!”, Zach shouted, and he took off, leaving behind Matt and his weapons. He ran forwards, past the Erika’s makeshift camp. He held onto his useless gun tightly. Whether he liked it or not, it was his remaining means of defense.
When Zach came out from behind the tree, he saw Matt, holding his neck, falling forward. The grass and dirt were dyed in a thick red color. Matt groveled a bit before he stopped moving altogether. Zach’s spine was ice cold.
Zach quickly made his way over to Matt’s body. Matt was dead. For sure, no one could survive a wound that obliterated their neck. Now, Zach was left alone to deal with the psycho bitch.
Zach, wanting to arm himself with a more useful weapon, tried to pry the shotgun from Matt’s limp body. However, Matt’s heavy body made removing the gun slung over his back difficult. Zach had to keep in mind, Erika was still nearby.
...
“Fuck this!”, Zach shouted, and he took off, leaving behind Matt and his weapons. He ran forwards, past the Erika’s makeshift camp. He held onto his useless gun tightly. Whether he liked it or not, it was his remaining means of defense.
Even through the smoke, Erika saw the red spot quickly spread over the boy’s blue shirt as he dropped to the ground. There was a part of her mind still in shock; still posing half a dozen questions about exactly why he missed, still thinking of the nearby tree and just how quickly she would have died if he had hit what he was aiming at.
Those ruminations held her captive for only a few seconds, before she slung the Martini-Henry over her shoulder and darted back to cover. By now she knew where those trains of thought led, somewhere her instincts now dragged her away from.
Worry about that shit on the way home, dude. Come on. Move!
Zach was still out there somewhere, and she hadn’t checked the radar recently enough to know if someone else had been drawn by their exchange of gunfire. There wasn’t any time to do so again. As she drew her pistol out again, she couldn’t help but glance back at her previous cover. The rifle had blown a hole clean through the tree. It wouldn’t have saved her.
Don’t. Think. About. It.
Drawing on something that felt halfway between courage and spite, Erika stepped back out, looking towards where Matt had fallen. Zach was knelt over him, struggling to try and pry one of the weapons from his body. Just as she raised the Hi-Power to shoot him, he took off in a run. She tried to lead her target, but seven shots later and the gun locked open, and Zach was still running.
“Shit!”
He was running across the area, past their old shelter. Either to get a better position on her, or to get away. There was no time to bet on one or the other. Reaching for a new magazine, her hand brushed against a weapon she’d almost forgotten about if not for the ever-present tapping of the handle against her leg as she walked.
Either use that, or miss thirteen more times trying to hit him.
He wasn't running directly away from her, so she only had to cut him off. Adrenaline had to be enough to keep her going through the pain.
“Fuck it.”
Sighing, she drew the tactical kama from its sheath before taking off after him.
Those ruminations held her captive for only a few seconds, before she slung the Martini-Henry over her shoulder and darted back to cover. By now she knew where those trains of thought led, somewhere her instincts now dragged her away from.
Worry about that shit on the way home, dude. Come on. Move!
Zach was still out there somewhere, and she hadn’t checked the radar recently enough to know if someone else had been drawn by their exchange of gunfire. There wasn’t any time to do so again. As she drew her pistol out again, she couldn’t help but glance back at her previous cover. The rifle had blown a hole clean through the tree. It wouldn’t have saved her.
Don’t. Think. About. It.
Drawing on something that felt halfway between courage and spite, Erika stepped back out, looking towards where Matt had fallen. Zach was knelt over him, struggling to try and pry one of the weapons from his body. Just as she raised the Hi-Power to shoot him, he took off in a run. She tried to lead her target, but seven shots later and the gun locked open, and Zach was still running.
“Shit!”
He was running across the area, past their old shelter. Either to get a better position on her, or to get away. There was no time to bet on one or the other. Reaching for a new magazine, her hand brushed against a weapon she’d almost forgotten about if not for the ever-present tapping of the handle against her leg as she walked.
Either use that, or miss thirteen more times trying to hit him.
He wasn't running directly away from her, so she only had to cut him off. Adrenaline had to be enough to keep her going through the pain.
“Fuck it.”
Sighing, she drew the tactical kama from its sheath before taking off after him.
Zach ran as quickly as he could, trying to get away from Erika, where she may be. His mind raced as he tried to figure out where to go next. There were very few places to go at this point. Only three places weren’t claimed as danger zones.
As he ran, it dawned upon him, Zach started the fight, and now Matt was dead. He got another person killed, all because he thought he could dish out some vigilante justice on one of the top killers. Zach might have overestimated the effectiveness of his weapon.
Demetri’s last words to Zach echoed in his head.
“You’re an idiot Zach.”
As Zach dwelled on those words, a figure suddenly jumped out in front of him. Erika! Just before he could try to stop, she took out a sharp instrument and slashed at Zach.
As he ran, it dawned upon him, Zach started the fight, and now Matt was dead. He got another person killed, all because he thought he could dish out some vigilante justice on one of the top killers. Zach might have overestimated the effectiveness of his weapon.
Demetri’s last words to Zach echoed in his head.
“You’re an idiot Zach.”
As Zach dwelled on those words, a figure suddenly jumped out in front of him. Erika! Just before he could try to stop, she took out a sharp instrument and slashed at Zach.
She bolted, dodging brush and fallen trees as she closed in on the silhouette running through the forest. Any one of these branches could've stopped or deflected a bullet. She'd have to stop to reload, to aim properly, giving him time to make more space between them.
The way her leg resisted her, and the pain radiating out of it kept him out of reach. Alive and one more lock on the door out of here, something she knew she couldn't accept. Zach had to die, any way she could make it happen. Anything else left too much to chance.
Thankfully, the path he'd chosen wasn't free of obstacles. As she struggled to suppress the bracing pain that challenged each step, Zach struggled to wade through the uneven mass of brush and jungle. Ultimately there was no need to outpace him; this ground was familiar, as was her place in this encounter. All she needed to do was persist.
They were within feet of one another when he finally came within reach. Erika crossed in front of Zach, swinging low with the Kama. The curved blade of the weapon caught Zach as he ran, his momentum yanking the steel across his abdomen in an arc and pulling Erika with it. The two of them tumbled to the ground, her hand still locked in a vice grip around the hilt.
Scrambling to get back to her feet, Erika tried to rip the weapon away. A wet squelching sound was only just audible over the noise of Zach screaming, the weapon only coming free on her third attempt. She struggled to disentangle herself from him as he writhed, blood and dirt nearly blinding her. Pushing against the ground, her hand slipped, instead pressed into something warm and squishy.
At first she raised the Kama again, only to let the bloody instrument fall when she looked down to see whatever it was that had spilled out of Zach. Blood welled out of the wound and over hands that struggled in vain to keep the eviscerated mess of internal organs from spilling further out of his gut. She’d seen this before. Not on the island. Another trip. Watching someone field-dress a deer. It was dead then, not alive. You’d make sure it was dead before doing something like this.
Recoiling instinctively, she scrambled backwards until she stopped against a tree trunk. Her heart raced as she sat and watched Zach struggle, adrenaline fighting with the pain radiating from her leg and chest.
The way her leg resisted her, and the pain radiating out of it kept him out of reach. Alive and one more lock on the door out of here, something she knew she couldn't accept. Zach had to die, any way she could make it happen. Anything else left too much to chance.
Thankfully, the path he'd chosen wasn't free of obstacles. As she struggled to suppress the bracing pain that challenged each step, Zach struggled to wade through the uneven mass of brush and jungle. Ultimately there was no need to outpace him; this ground was familiar, as was her place in this encounter. All she needed to do was persist.
They were within feet of one another when he finally came within reach. Erika crossed in front of Zach, swinging low with the Kama. The curved blade of the weapon caught Zach as he ran, his momentum yanking the steel across his abdomen in an arc and pulling Erika with it. The two of them tumbled to the ground, her hand still locked in a vice grip around the hilt.
Scrambling to get back to her feet, Erika tried to rip the weapon away. A wet squelching sound was only just audible over the noise of Zach screaming, the weapon only coming free on her third attempt. She struggled to disentangle herself from him as he writhed, blood and dirt nearly blinding her. Pushing against the ground, her hand slipped, instead pressed into something warm and squishy.
At first she raised the Kama again, only to let the bloody instrument fall when she looked down to see whatever it was that had spilled out of Zach. Blood welled out of the wound and over hands that struggled in vain to keep the eviscerated mess of internal organs from spilling further out of his gut. She’d seen this before. Not on the island. Another trip. Watching someone field-dress a deer. It was dead then, not alive. You’d make sure it was dead before doing something like this.
Recoiling instinctively, she scrambled backwards until she stopped against a tree trunk. Her heart raced as she sat and watched Zach struggle, adrenaline fighting with the pain radiating from her leg and chest.
The next thing Zach knew, he was on the ground. A jolt of excruciating pain resonated as soon as he saw Erika on top of him, pulling the blade along with his organs from his abdomen. Zach let out a feral, guttural scream as she put her hand in his wound.
Oh god, why!? It hurts! IT FUCKING HURTS! Why is this happening!? He felt his torso being emptied out and violated by this crazy bitch. Zach started to feel cold. His screams began to be spliced by the sounds of gurgling as blood dripped out of both sides of his mouth.
Finally, Erika backed off. Zach’s organs were now displayed for the world to see. Now all Zach was good for was food for the buzzards. Zach was in so much shock, he could not move, all he could do was lie on his back, agonizing over the pain that grew dimmer and dimmer with his fading consciousness.
Oh god, why!? It hurts! IT FUCKING HURTS! Why is this happening!? He felt his torso being emptied out and violated by this crazy bitch. Zach started to feel cold. His screams began to be spliced by the sounds of gurgling as blood dripped out of both sides of his mouth.
Finally, Erika backed off. Zach’s organs were now displayed for the world to see. Now all Zach was good for was food for the buzzards. Zach was in so much shock, he could not move, all he could do was lie on his back, agonizing over the pain that grew dimmer and dimmer with his fading consciousness.
Erika kept watching him, uneasily noting how desperately he seemed to hang on in spite of how utterly fucked he was. The kama lay next to her in the dirt. It would stay there, as she had little interest in using it again. Too messy, too exhausting. Short of breath, she reached into her daypack and produced a half-empty water bottle. Uncapping it, she took a short, greedy gulp before emptying the rest on her hands and rinsing the blood off of them. What was left she wiped onto her shirt, the dirt and bloodstains now heavily obscuring its green plaid pattern. Focus slowly began to return.
With her breathing slowly steadying, she drew the pistol again and calmly began loading a fresh magazine. The slide racked back easily, having worn in from the amount of use she’d been putting the gun through. It was going to see more before this was all over.
Could’ve just shot him. Could’ve waited till there was a clear space and just - put him down, cleanly. Not like this. I don’t enjoy this. I don’t need this. Wasn’t necessary.
Erika looked to Zach, reaching for that familiar well of self-hatred. She placed the handgun against her own head, once again wondering if the impulse to pull the trigger would present itself. She thought over fifteen names, listening to every whimper and unsteady breath coming from Zach as if he spoke for all of them. Forced herself back to the Lake, to the pain she’d inflicted on Lucas, to the way Garnet had looked at her. To the way she hated that she wanted Ty to kiss her, even knowing he bit Chris’ throat out.
That well is dry.
After a few seconds she stopped the gentle tapping of the pistol against her temple. The gun going off and ending her would’ve been appropriate for who she used to be. The girl from twelve days ago would’ve killed her easily.
In a way, she kind of did.
No one made her do it this way. Not even the AT - one kill was rational, maybe, but sixteen sure wasn’t. Yet it was her way, the only way she could keep going. By now she just needed the feeling, the sense that it was active survival, not passive. The sense of continuity. Playing the perpetrator because it felt better than playing the victim. Bringing the game a step closer to the end. The collar one step closer to coming off. It didn’t feel good per se, but it felt as close to good as anything could that she could still allow herself to feel, to justify.
Even if altogether, everyone she killed bought her maybe a day at best. Even if doing so turned both Zach and Blue-Shirt away from hunting someone they had personal vendettas against, to firing back at her within moments of finding out who she was.Even if it led her to eviscerate a guy, because she convinced herself it was the best course of action at the time. Even if it made her sick and hurt, because it was a sickness and a hurt she knew she could withstand.
Survival wasn’t enough. Fighting, killing the competition - it was the only balm to the fear she carried with her, something that only felt reasonable because the alternative didn’t compute. Everyone else faced the same challenge, but no one else went this far, because they weren’t her.
She couldn’t enjoy Zach’s suffering. That wasn’t in her. Indifference was the best she could do, the only malice she’d really found a way to acclimate to. She stood up, and aimed the pistol down at Zach’s head. So much of what she thought was noise, so much of it dressing up that one thought she still found herself barely accepting:
You’re not me. You’re finished, and I’m not. That’s all I am.
He was lying there, and she wasn’t. The kid with the sniper rifle was lying dead only a couple yards away, instead of her. Connor was lying a few yards away from all of them, his dignity intact, but still decaying away like the rest of them.
If the thing walking away from all of this was some hollow shell, some wretch that she wasn’t sure would ever feel what it was supposed to feel again; even then, it would still be hers. A monster she had molded into being, that she was responsible for. Strong enough to handle a situation that she couldn’t. A reaction, equal to the fear that created it. Still alive, still her. Still standing, where so many others had fallen.
There’s some satisfaction in that, isn’t there? I can accept that.
She flipped the safety back on, offering Zach little more than a shrug.
“Sorry dude, I need the bullet more than you do.”
Adjusting the sling of the Martini-Henry on her shoulder, she limped past the makeshift shelter to the body of her other assailant. Though the prospect of taking the sniper rifle was tempting, it was clearly not in working order and she didn’t relish the prospect of spending time sighting in a rifle in these conditions. She checked the collar radar once before placing it back in her bag, confident that it hadn’t gotten broken in the scuffle.
As she left, she once again caught a glimpse of Connor’s corpse, his dead eyes staring blankly at the forest floor. Maggots were crawling on his arms, boring holes into his skin.
It was hard to imagine what she ever could’ve envied about that.
((Erika Stieglitz continued in Visceral Reality))
With her breathing slowly steadying, she drew the pistol again and calmly began loading a fresh magazine. The slide racked back easily, having worn in from the amount of use she’d been putting the gun through. It was going to see more before this was all over.
Could’ve just shot him. Could’ve waited till there was a clear space and just - put him down, cleanly. Not like this. I don’t enjoy this. I don’t need this. Wasn’t necessary.
N e c e s s a r y ?
Erika looked to Zach, reaching for that familiar well of self-hatred. She placed the handgun against her own head, once again wondering if the impulse to pull the trigger would present itself. She thought over fifteen names, listening to every whimper and unsteady breath coming from Zach as if he spoke for all of them. Forced herself back to the Lake, to the pain she’d inflicted on Lucas, to the way Garnet had looked at her. To the way she hated that she wanted Ty to kiss her, even knowing he bit Chris’ throat out.
That well is dry.
After a few seconds she stopped the gentle tapping of the pistol against her temple. The gun going off and ending her would’ve been appropriate for who she used to be. The girl from twelve days ago would’ve killed her easily.
In a way, she kind of did.
No one made her do it this way. Not even the AT - one kill was rational, maybe, but sixteen sure wasn’t. Yet it was her way, the only way she could keep going. By now she just needed the feeling, the sense that it was active survival, not passive. The sense of continuity. Playing the perpetrator because it felt better than playing the victim. Bringing the game a step closer to the end. The collar one step closer to coming off. It didn’t feel good per se, but it felt as close to good as anything could that she could still allow herself to feel, to justify.
Even if altogether, everyone she killed bought her maybe a day at best. Even if doing so turned both Zach and Blue-Shirt away from hunting someone they had personal vendettas against, to firing back at her within moments of finding out who she was.Even if it led her to eviscerate a guy, because she convinced herself it was the best course of action at the time. Even if it made her sick and hurt, because it was a sickness and a hurt she knew she could withstand.
Survival wasn’t enough. Fighting, killing the competition - it was the only balm to the fear she carried with her, something that only felt reasonable because the alternative didn’t compute. Everyone else faced the same challenge, but no one else went this far, because they weren’t her.
She couldn’t enjoy Zach’s suffering. That wasn’t in her. Indifference was the best she could do, the only malice she’d really found a way to acclimate to. She stood up, and aimed the pistol down at Zach’s head. So much of what she thought was noise, so much of it dressing up that one thought she still found herself barely accepting:
You’re not me. You’re finished, and I’m not. That’s all I am.
He was lying there, and she wasn’t. The kid with the sniper rifle was lying dead only a couple yards away, instead of her. Connor was lying a few yards away from all of them, his dignity intact, but still decaying away like the rest of them.
If the thing walking away from all of this was some hollow shell, some wretch that she wasn’t sure would ever feel what it was supposed to feel again; even then, it would still be hers. A monster she had molded into being, that she was responsible for. Strong enough to handle a situation that she couldn’t. A reaction, equal to the fear that created it. Still alive, still her. Still standing, where so many others had fallen.
There’s some satisfaction in that, isn’t there? I can accept that.
She flipped the safety back on, offering Zach little more than a shrug.
“Sorry dude, I need the bullet more than you do.”
Adjusting the sling of the Martini-Henry on her shoulder, she limped past the makeshift shelter to the body of her other assailant. Though the prospect of taking the sniper rifle was tempting, it was clearly not in working order and she didn’t relish the prospect of spending time sighting in a rifle in these conditions. She checked the collar radar once before placing it back in her bag, confident that it hadn’t gotten broken in the scuffle.
As she left, she once again caught a glimpse of Connor’s corpse, his dead eyes staring blankly at the forest floor. Maggots were crawling on his arms, boring holes into his skin.
It was hard to imagine what she ever could’ve envied about that.
((Erika Stieglitz continued in Visceral Reality))
Zach’s breathing had become ragged. He was hacking up more blood as he laid in the dirt, looking up at the sky. His vision was blurring, and he couldn’t hear anything. If there was a sound, or if anyone tried to talk to him, he couldn’t hear them or even see them.
Zach’s mind went back to his family back home. His mother and father had given him a hard time about turning his pranks into a career. Even if they thought they could have changed Zach’s mind to look into a more practical career, it wouldn’t have stifled Zach’s interest in pranking.
He tried to remember the last time he’d seen them and what they said to him. His father was drinking his morning coffee while his mother cooked some eggs for them. Zach just grabbed a bowl of cereal. Mom was glad Zach’s grades had improved and hoped he had a great class trip. Dad then said that he didn’t want to hear from his teachers that Zach caused any trouble during the trip, threatening to ground him until graduation if so. After breakfast, they drove Zach to school and saw him off. Their last word were, “Have fun, we love you.” Zach’s last words to them were, “See you when I get home.”
Home. Right.
Zach’s mind briefly flashed to specific points on the island. His survival at the lighthouse. Ditching Sean and the others. Shooting Brandon. Watching Michael kill Catherine. Hitting Sean in the face. Attacking Forrest. Receiving a new gun from Willow. Stealing Faith’s fish. Zach’s guilt was overwhelming. Tears began streaming down the sides of his head. What could he have done differently?
He had tried to keep a low profile ever since the second day. He should have tried to be more trustworthy. He should’ve had more control of himself. He shouldn’t have acted irrationally. Maybe then, Sean would still be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to kill Brandon or Bree. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten stuck with a crappy weapon. Maybe Matt could have been convinced to give him one of his weapons. Maybe, he wouldn’t be dying right now. Maybe. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot.
Zach’s vision went completely dark. All that was left was the unmoving body of a boy. A scared, lonely boy.
B034: Zachary Beck- Deceased
Zach’s mind went back to his family back home. His mother and father had given him a hard time about turning his pranks into a career. Even if they thought they could have changed Zach’s mind to look into a more practical career, it wouldn’t have stifled Zach’s interest in pranking.
He tried to remember the last time he’d seen them and what they said to him. His father was drinking his morning coffee while his mother cooked some eggs for them. Zach just grabbed a bowl of cereal. Mom was glad Zach’s grades had improved and hoped he had a great class trip. Dad then said that he didn’t want to hear from his teachers that Zach caused any trouble during the trip, threatening to ground him until graduation if so. After breakfast, they drove Zach to school and saw him off. Their last word were, “Have fun, we love you.” Zach’s last words to them were, “See you when I get home.”
Home. Right.
Zach’s mind briefly flashed to specific points on the island. His survival at the lighthouse. Ditching Sean and the others. Shooting Brandon. Watching Michael kill Catherine. Hitting Sean in the face. Attacking Forrest. Receiving a new gun from Willow. Stealing Faith’s fish. Zach’s guilt was overwhelming. Tears began streaming down the sides of his head. What could he have done differently?
He had tried to keep a low profile ever since the second day. He should have tried to be more trustworthy. He should’ve had more control of himself. He shouldn’t have acted irrationally. Maybe then, Sean would still be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to kill Brandon or Bree. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten stuck with a crappy weapon. Maybe Matt could have been convinced to give him one of his weapons. Maybe, he wouldn’t be dying right now. Maybe. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot.
Zach’s vision went completely dark. All that was left was the unmoving body of a boy. A scared, lonely boy.
B034: Zachary Beck- Deceased
-
Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued from At Least It's Not a Microwave))
The first thing that Faith noticed was the smell. At first it was faint, a hint of acridity clinging to the air that she couldn't place. But it grew thicker and more familiar as she trudged her way through the greenery. The metallic, cloying scent sticking to the back of her throat, in a way that covering her mouth with her hand couldn't block out. It was the same smell that had accompanied Regina and Wyatt, when she'd stumbled across their corpses, the smell of drying blood and the first stages of rot setting in.
Faith came to a stop, the unease beginning to build in the pit of her stomach. She looked behind herself for a moment, eyeing the direction she'd come from. It would be so easy to just... Turn around. To not keep going towards whoever it was. To find out who was dead in the morning. To not risk getting held up again. But, she couldn't. She wouldn't. There was a chance whoever had killed them had left something. A gun, food, water - Anything. She needed all of it, badly. An opportunity like this was unlikely to come around again. She'd seen corpses before, it wouldn't be that bad.
So why did her legs feel like they were made of lead?
Faith took a shallow breath in, and held it for a few seconds, as she scrunched her eyes shut so hard that stars started to appear in the self-imposed darkness. "Come on, come on, come on." she repeated to herself under her breath, as she tried to summon the will to keep moving. After another round of hesitation, she forced herself to take a few more nervous steps towards the source of the scent, reaching an arm forwards to push away a low hanging group of branches that blocked off the clearing.
The sight that greeted her forced the wind out of her gut like she'd been punched, turning into a choked mixture of a whimper and a gasp.
Matthew was the closest to the treeline. Despite the fact that he was lying on his side, facing away from her, she could still see his face clearly. Something had cut through his lower neck and throat, leaving a deep red valley that had been wrenched open, the contraction of what little remained of the back of his neck forcing his head into an impossible angle. The blood that had splattered everything around him was drying and congealing, forming a dark brown slurry as it mixed with the mud he'd died in. She could see desperate scratch marks that he'd left in the dirt.
She could feel his eyes, still wide open, staring at her accusatorily as she looked away.
Zach lay a little further away, near something that looked like it had been a temporary camp. He was on his front, with a similar pool of dark brown froth pooling around him, with his arms placed awkwardly underneath him as he cradled something. What little she could see of his expression looked wracked with pain as his eyes stared lifelessly into the ground.
Faith wrenched her mouth closed, and found enough of her wits to scan the rest of the clearing for any sign of the person who'd done this, and was thankful to see a single set of tracks meandering their way out. She was on her own. For now, at least. That realisation didn't exactly bring relief, but it gave her just enough breathing room to process what she was seeing. To remember what she was here for.
Her eyes fell on the weapons lying by Matt, their muted colours harder to make out when surrounded by pale fleshes and desaturated scarlets, but she tried to concentrate on those as she moved closer. She tried not to think about the sound the mud made as it became softer under her feet. Tried not to think about what was pressing against her leg as she leaned over to pick it up. Tried to ignore the slick film that coated the grip of the rifle as it settled in her shaking hands.
It's just dirt. It's just dirt. It's just dirt.
Raiding his duffelbag felt even worse, as she emptied out it's contents in the middle of the clearing, creating a heap of clothing and other useless items around herself. She tried not to wonder if any of the shirts she threw carelessly over her shoulder had been a gift from his family. The only things she found of use were a few bottles of water, and the ammo for the weapons she'd taken, which quickly disappeared into her own bag.
There. It was over.
Faith tried to get used to the weight of her new weapons as she walked away from the scene, the feeling of a gun in her hands being at once comforting and alien, as the scythe she'd clung to for a week lay abandoned behind her. It occurred to her, briefly, that this was probably the longest she'd gone without holding a gun in months.
Such idle musing was interrupted by the intrusion of another familiar face. Connor. He was propped up by a tree, and looked decidedly more peaceful than the two other bodies she'd just seen. She could almost have mistaken him for being asleep if it wasn't for the two bullet wounds that punctured his chest with huge, red pockmarks that tunnelled through to the wood behind him. Another pang of guilt rushed through her.
Another friend who'd died without her.
"I'm sorry." she managed to choke out. It felt like both the right thing to say, and hopelessly inadequate at the same time.
It felt like it took every ounce of energy she had to turn away from him one last time, and push her way back out into the forest.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued Elsewhere))
The first thing that Faith noticed was the smell. At first it was faint, a hint of acridity clinging to the air that she couldn't place. But it grew thicker and more familiar as she trudged her way through the greenery. The metallic, cloying scent sticking to the back of her throat, in a way that covering her mouth with her hand couldn't block out. It was the same smell that had accompanied Regina and Wyatt, when she'd stumbled across their corpses, the smell of drying blood and the first stages of rot setting in.
Faith came to a stop, the unease beginning to build in the pit of her stomach. She looked behind herself for a moment, eyeing the direction she'd come from. It would be so easy to just... Turn around. To not keep going towards whoever it was. To find out who was dead in the morning. To not risk getting held up again. But, she couldn't. She wouldn't. There was a chance whoever had killed them had left something. A gun, food, water - Anything. She needed all of it, badly. An opportunity like this was unlikely to come around again. She'd seen corpses before, it wouldn't be that bad.
So why did her legs feel like they were made of lead?
Faith took a shallow breath in, and held it for a few seconds, as she scrunched her eyes shut so hard that stars started to appear in the self-imposed darkness. "Come on, come on, come on." she repeated to herself under her breath, as she tried to summon the will to keep moving. After another round of hesitation, she forced herself to take a few more nervous steps towards the source of the scent, reaching an arm forwards to push away a low hanging group of branches that blocked off the clearing.
The sight that greeted her forced the wind out of her gut like she'd been punched, turning into a choked mixture of a whimper and a gasp.
Matthew was the closest to the treeline. Despite the fact that he was lying on his side, facing away from her, she could still see his face clearly. Something had cut through his lower neck and throat, leaving a deep red valley that had been wrenched open, the contraction of what little remained of the back of his neck forcing his head into an impossible angle. The blood that had splattered everything around him was drying and congealing, forming a dark brown slurry as it mixed with the mud he'd died in. She could see desperate scratch marks that he'd left in the dirt.
She could feel his eyes, still wide open, staring at her accusatorily as she looked away.
Zach lay a little further away, near something that looked like it had been a temporary camp. He was on his front, with a similar pool of dark brown froth pooling around him, with his arms placed awkwardly underneath him as he cradled something. What little she could see of his expression looked wracked with pain as his eyes stared lifelessly into the ground.
Faith wrenched her mouth closed, and found enough of her wits to scan the rest of the clearing for any sign of the person who'd done this, and was thankful to see a single set of tracks meandering their way out. She was on her own. For now, at least. That realisation didn't exactly bring relief, but it gave her just enough breathing room to process what she was seeing. To remember what she was here for.
Her eyes fell on the weapons lying by Matt, their muted colours harder to make out when surrounded by pale fleshes and desaturated scarlets, but she tried to concentrate on those as she moved closer. She tried not to think about the sound the mud made as it became softer under her feet. Tried not to think about what was pressing against her leg as she leaned over to pick it up. Tried to ignore the slick film that coated the grip of the rifle as it settled in her shaking hands.
It's just dirt. It's just dirt. It's just dirt.
Raiding his duffelbag felt even worse, as she emptied out it's contents in the middle of the clearing, creating a heap of clothing and other useless items around herself. She tried not to wonder if any of the shirts she threw carelessly over her shoulder had been a gift from his family. The only things she found of use were a few bottles of water, and the ammo for the weapons she'd taken, which quickly disappeared into her own bag.
There. It was over.
Faith tried to get used to the weight of her new weapons as she walked away from the scene, the feeling of a gun in her hands being at once comforting and alien, as the scythe she'd clung to for a week lay abandoned behind her. It occurred to her, briefly, that this was probably the longest she'd gone without holding a gun in months.
Such idle musing was interrupted by the intrusion of another familiar face. Connor. He was propped up by a tree, and looked decidedly more peaceful than the two other bodies she'd just seen. She could almost have mistaken him for being asleep if it wasn't for the two bullet wounds that punctured his chest with huge, red pockmarks that tunnelled through to the wood behind him. Another pang of guilt rushed through her.
Another friend who'd died without her.
"I'm sorry." she managed to choke out. It felt like both the right thing to say, and hopelessly inadequate at the same time.
It felt like it took every ounce of energy she had to turn away from him one last time, and push her way back out into the forest.
((Faith Clementine Marshal-Mackenzie continued Elsewhere))
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
