[note: I as yet have no assigned weapon, so don't even think of attacking, please, cause I'd be GodModding to defend. -.-]
[just to tell ya all, language could get sorta harsh. Understandably, of course. >>;]
The boy had a pounding headache. Seriously bad, this one was. So bad you want to take a bat to your head to get it OUT of your head. So bad you can't shake your head for fear of puking all over yourself.
He slowly realized he was on his back, quite a bit upstream from where the previous action (that he, as of now, had no knowledge of) had taken place. In fact, he was just off the riverbed itself, saving him from having to worry about freezing to death in the water. Or drowning in all of three inches or whatever it was.
He reached over to his face, wiping off some dirt. With a groan, he slowly sat straight up, supporting himself with his left arm. "What the..." With a start, he realized he was A) alone and B) near a river. On an island.
"..."
He suddenly remembered something. Shit, what was it? The memory had come, then faded. Dammit.
Yeah, that was it...he'd talked to his friends...heh, bastards of friends more like it...and had gone on his own to the movies. Depressing.
And on the way...shit, that van had been trailing him. He'd read enough books to know what to look for in a trailing vehicle. Whoever they'd been, Chavez and Clark had always sounded like better stalkers.
Then, something had slammed into his neck, and he'd blacked out. He was awake now...and his neck hurt like hell. He touched it, and instantly regretted it. Bruised, it was.
There was a pack at the boy's feet. Shit, he was even having trouble finding it. It read...Toby Valerik.
No, wasn't his name Tobs?
Wait, no, that was what his friends called him. Not the bastards he'd called friends for a while, but his FRIENDS in Michigan. Tobs was his name.
Still, Toby Valerik was his legal name. He took the pack, and placed it on his legs. His head still hurt like a bitch. Quickly, he unzipped it. The sudden movement hurt his head. With a light flinch, he moved on and sifted through the contents with a horrid feeling building.
__________
Almost half an hour later, he'd finished reading every word available in the handbook. Handbook, my ass! He was shaking lightly, but the only sound he'd made so far was the zipper of the kit, and that had been very quiet indeed.
It's all a joke. No way. Some huge, fucking elaborate prank. Maybe my friends decided to play a prank on me after not seeing me for so long? Did they come out from Michigan?
And, all at once, he shot backwards into the bushes next to the riverbed. He made sure he was hidden; an instinctive move he'd picked up, thanks to reading and video games. His head was spinning from the pain, but he ignored it for now.
A fucking GUNSHOT? Is this fucking REAL? He'd never heard a real, true gunshot; well, not in years. It really was quite a bit different from the movies. That's how he knew it was real; it was so unique. Old gun, he bet.
Holy fuck, this isn't a prank. If it is, it's passing into illegal right about now. Who the fuck is this Danya guy, anyway? Obviously, he's pissed.
He knew that, even if this was fake, he couldn't take the chance of not believing it. His want to see home (not Arizona. Michigan) overtook him. And his knowledge of having a cellphone with him.
I've got a phone! However, he didn't take it out. For one thing, he knew from looking about that he;d have 0 signal. Too hilly and mountainous right now...and he'd forgot to fucking charge it! God DAMN luck! Maybe he'd have a couple minutes of speech...maybe even 10.
He shuddered as the full scope of what was going on hit him. He was going to die, or he'd have to kill. Could he actually kill someone, and look at anyone, especially her, the same way? Talk about loss of innocence. On top of that, would the killing be legal? It was such a shitty thing to think of, but, if he got out of this alive, only to find out that he'd spend his days in a prison as someone's bitch ...he'd kill himself immediately.
Whoever that fucker Danya is, I hope HE gets to be some nice biker guy's bitch for the rest of his life. Of course, Tobs felt no need to filter his language at the moment, so he let all the restraints off. He didn't speak, though.
He scanned around. No people, it seemed. And he was moderately hidden in the bush. Thank god his pack was green; it was hidden, also. At a glance, he was nature. A studious eye could pick him out, though.
I hope the first person I meet isn't some fucking psycho...
Boy 121- START
Tobs: ...shit.
Boy 121- START
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Classic Tobs avatar by Kermit.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
[Swearing, huh? You should see some of D0dd's more verbal posts XD]
It had been a while since Chance Burton had risen to his feet, though since then he had been moving around quite considerably, milling over the current situation through his mind both carefully and calmly. Coincidentally, walking helped him think.
It wasn't as though Chance was not worried whatsoever. Well, not so much as he was merely thinking carefully on the matter. Being someone who had learned perfectly well that panicking would only be counter-productive, he was not one who wasted his time on fear and worry.
Even if it WAS a bit hard not to be afraid in a situation like this, where he was trapped on an island, pitted against his own classmates, in this nightmarish game of musical chairs. Except with weapons...
Including guns, apparently, Chance thought to himself, just as his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot ripping through the air somewhere in the distance. He looked over his shoulder towards the direction of the sound, a concerned look on his face.
All this time he had been paying careful attention to the announcements. It was so hard to believe that so many had died already, confirming the very fact that Chance had not wanted to believe at first: people out there, students his own age, classmates and friends even, were willing to kill for their own survival.
Each death had been a blow to him, though most of them he had met only briefly, or associated through letters, due to the fact that he was almost never around at Barry Coleson High...
...and possibly, never again...
Looking at it in a certain point, it was almost ironic. Chance was known for always being off on some distant, foreign place for a while, on an exchange trip or travelling with his adoptive parents. Now it was almost the same...except it may as well be his last.
Chance shook his head to clear out the thought as he continued walking. There was no point in dwelling on such things. And as for those eliminated, there would be time to mourn them later, once he escaped this island.
After all, that was what he had decided from the start, to find a way to break this game, find a loophole, outsmart the terrorists, and escape.
As for his current plan...what he needed to do was gain some allies, and at the same time, find out who exactly is playing this game. Trust was a very delicate matter in this type of situation, no doubt about that. But if Chance played his cards carefully...there was a chance, a slim chance, albeit, that there might be a way out...
By this time, he had reached the river. Taking in his surroundings, his calm demeanor was momentarily jolted as he caught sight of several corpses lying about... three in fact, though only one of which Chance recognized from Barry Coleson.
Chance had never associated directly with Blaine Eno, though from what he had seen, and heard, he had been a member on the track team. One of the better ones in fact, though always something seemed odd and detached about him....and now here he was, fallen like the others.
Staring down for a few silent moments before continuing on, he found himself nearly knocking over something jutting out of the ground: A piece of cardboard, looking as though it had been ripped from a ringspine, with a bit of writing on it. Chance peered at it, crouching on his knees to get a better look.
"Rest in peace...Hawley Faust...gone, but never forgotten. ...Ever."
Chance shook his head. "Damn..."
Judging from the announcements, Hawley, a rather troubled, detached person with whom Chance had only associated with on occasion, had been one of the more active killers of the game at the very beginning. Yet despite all of that...someone had taken the liberty...to bury him?
It was like a puzzle filled with gaps where the respective pieces should have been: one that Chance would probably never solve.
His attention was suddenly caught by an unknown presence somewhere around him. Chance had only just sensed it, being someone who was rather alert.
Looking around carefully, he deliberated, if only for a second, before raising his hands.
"Oy, whoever's there," he announced clearly. "I'm not here to kill anyone, so just come out and show yourself, alright?"
Then, for good measure, he added, "It's me, Chance Burton." After all, he was fairly known in the school, and had a good reputation...hopefully someone out there would trust him, right?
It had been a while since Chance Burton had risen to his feet, though since then he had been moving around quite considerably, milling over the current situation through his mind both carefully and calmly. Coincidentally, walking helped him think.
It wasn't as though Chance was not worried whatsoever. Well, not so much as he was merely thinking carefully on the matter. Being someone who had learned perfectly well that panicking would only be counter-productive, he was not one who wasted his time on fear and worry.
Even if it WAS a bit hard not to be afraid in a situation like this, where he was trapped on an island, pitted against his own classmates, in this nightmarish game of musical chairs. Except with weapons...
Including guns, apparently, Chance thought to himself, just as his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot ripping through the air somewhere in the distance. He looked over his shoulder towards the direction of the sound, a concerned look on his face.
All this time he had been paying careful attention to the announcements. It was so hard to believe that so many had died already, confirming the very fact that Chance had not wanted to believe at first: people out there, students his own age, classmates and friends even, were willing to kill for their own survival.
Each death had been a blow to him, though most of them he had met only briefly, or associated through letters, due to the fact that he was almost never around at Barry Coleson High...
...and possibly, never again...
Looking at it in a certain point, it was almost ironic. Chance was known for always being off on some distant, foreign place for a while, on an exchange trip or travelling with his adoptive parents. Now it was almost the same...except it may as well be his last.
Chance shook his head to clear out the thought as he continued walking. There was no point in dwelling on such things. And as for those eliminated, there would be time to mourn them later, once he escaped this island.
After all, that was what he had decided from the start, to find a way to break this game, find a loophole, outsmart the terrorists, and escape.
As for his current plan...what he needed to do was gain some allies, and at the same time, find out who exactly is playing this game. Trust was a very delicate matter in this type of situation, no doubt about that. But if Chance played his cards carefully...there was a chance, a slim chance, albeit, that there might be a way out...
By this time, he had reached the river. Taking in his surroundings, his calm demeanor was momentarily jolted as he caught sight of several corpses lying about... three in fact, though only one of which Chance recognized from Barry Coleson.
Chance had never associated directly with Blaine Eno, though from what he had seen, and heard, he had been a member on the track team. One of the better ones in fact, though always something seemed odd and detached about him....and now here he was, fallen like the others.
Staring down for a few silent moments before continuing on, he found himself nearly knocking over something jutting out of the ground: A piece of cardboard, looking as though it had been ripped from a ringspine, with a bit of writing on it. Chance peered at it, crouching on his knees to get a better look.
"Rest in peace...Hawley Faust...gone, but never forgotten. ...Ever."
Chance shook his head. "Damn..."
Judging from the announcements, Hawley, a rather troubled, detached person with whom Chance had only associated with on occasion, had been one of the more active killers of the game at the very beginning. Yet despite all of that...someone had taken the liberty...to bury him?
It was like a puzzle filled with gaps where the respective pieces should have been: one that Chance would probably never solve.
His attention was suddenly caught by an unknown presence somewhere around him. Chance had only just sensed it, being someone who was rather alert.
Looking around carefully, he deliberated, if only for a second, before raising his hands.
"Oy, whoever's there," he announced clearly. "I'm not here to kill anyone, so just come out and show yourself, alright?"
Then, for good measure, he added, "It's me, Chance Burton." After all, he was fairly known in the school, and had a good reputation...hopefully someone out there would trust him, right?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. 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.
While he'd been hiding for the majority of the beginning of the game, Sidney Crosby found himself not being the kind of person who'd ignore the calls of someone else, if they were in need or not, trying to kill him or not. Sidney'd always been the kind of guy who helped out his friends, no matter what the immense talent that he had at hockey was. As it was, the newspapers called Sidney Crosby the next 'phenom' of the NHL. People compared him to Mario Lemieux; to Wayne Gretzky, and while the comparisons he knew were made simply because he was probably the most skilled player to come from the Q since...well, since Mario himself, he didn't believe in them one bit. To Sidney, he was always his own worst critic, he was always the one that gave himself the hardest time.
If I can't satisfy myself, then how am I supposed to make others feel good?
As he stepped into the river, he noticed that he'd made what could potentially be a very fatal mistake. There were two other boys in the area, and while at first glance, they didn't seem to be glistening with murderous intentions, Sidney knew that looks; like most things in life, could be decieving. He'd been listening to the announcements since the beginning of the game, and he'd seen more than his fair share of corpses. He'd tried his hardest not to freak out and start bawling his eyes out, and for now, it was working.
If I start crying, then is that how people will remember me? Sidney Crosby, first overall draft pick of the Pittsburgh Penguins, sitting on a stump, getting shot in the face while sobbing his eyes out? Future of the NHL, sobbing on a stump? The hell with that. Sidney Crosby's going to go out fighting, like he always has, in every game he ever played.
As he stepped into the river area, he looked at the one boy that had called out, and held his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat.
"Uh, hey there...don't shoot, I'm not going to hurt you..."
Sidney didn't know if he had a gun, but he figured it was as good a greeting as ever. And if he got shot, well...then shit, but what could he really do?
((Yeah, seriously. Some of my posts are just like, NC-17 worthy. And sorry for posting as my fourth character, but I'm having ISSUES killing my third off - I can't seem to do it, there's no opportunity. Gah.))
If I can't satisfy myself, then how am I supposed to make others feel good?
As he stepped into the river, he noticed that he'd made what could potentially be a very fatal mistake. There were two other boys in the area, and while at first glance, they didn't seem to be glistening with murderous intentions, Sidney knew that looks; like most things in life, could be decieving. He'd been listening to the announcements since the beginning of the game, and he'd seen more than his fair share of corpses. He'd tried his hardest not to freak out and start bawling his eyes out, and for now, it was working.
If I start crying, then is that how people will remember me? Sidney Crosby, first overall draft pick of the Pittsburgh Penguins, sitting on a stump, getting shot in the face while sobbing his eyes out? Future of the NHL, sobbing on a stump? The hell with that. Sidney Crosby's going to go out fighting, like he always has, in every game he ever played.
As he stepped into the river area, he looked at the one boy that had called out, and held his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat.
"Uh, hey there...don't shoot, I'm not going to hurt you..."
Sidney didn't know if he had a gun, but he figured it was as good a greeting as ever. And if he got shot, well...then shit, but what could he really do?
((Yeah, seriously. Some of my posts are just like, NC-17 worthy. And sorry for posting as my fourth character, but I'm having ISSUES killing my third off - I can't seem to do it, there's no opportunity. Gah.))
[ha...Tobs could do it, if I play my cards right. Who's the third, anyway?
...Scary, Dodd. XD NC-17, eh? Scareh!]
Tobs was on his stomach in the bush when he heard the voice. He'd thought he was hidden...oh, well. Whatever.
What should I do...? If I come out, he could just go ahead and shoot me. If I stay here, I could lose help. Shit. Fuck it, whatever! They sounded real, and didn't add anything unneeded like liers in movies and shit... He slowly got to his knees, kneeling behind the bushes.
He looked around...SHIT, two guys. He dropped back to his stomach, lying prone. In his quick glance, he'd seen that both looked sincere. And empty-handed.
Shit...shit...two...wait...both have their arms up...here goes. He picked up a stick on the ground, moving silently yet quickly. Tobs wrapped part of his shirt around it, making it look quite a bit like a gun. The stick even had a part sticking out from below, like the grip. When I step out, they'll see it's fake. But, from these bushes...the bush's will break up my outline, and it'll look real to them...
He knelt once more, staring at the two kids. Alright. He took a breath. So, is this what Chavez felt like? The breath came out.
All at once, he shot to his feet, standing in the bush. Not a very smart move, in hindsight, but suitable for right now. Actually, his tactic was quite simple.
He pointed the 'pistol' at the boys. "Don't worry, I won't shoot! Now, step out towards the riverbed so I can see you clearly, and turn around in a circle. If you don't do it immediately, I will shoot, but as long as you do that, you'll live." He had the urge to say 'I'll only shoot if you delay, because that'll tell me you're hiding something.' But, he guessed correctly that saying such a thing would give him away, and kept to the bare-bones demands. With a stick wrapped in cloth that would look like a gun from where they were. HA. Honestly, it's possible it could work. It's probable, seeing as not many people would be able to think perfectly straight and normal given the situation...
I can't fucking believe this... He made no extra motions that could give away the 'pistol' as a stick, and overall, it looked quite like an actual pistol. His hand even shook, but not enough to screw over his aim from this range.
Thank you, Tom Clancy. Had he NOT read Clancy, and had no understanding of tactics of this type, he'd have just stepped out into the river. And gotten shot, he guessed. Wrongly in this case.
His face was screwed into an impassive look, giving nothing away. Of course, the second they obeyed him, this would change. He'd pitch the gun to the side, and make some shitty joke or other.
And if they figured it out BEFORE he explained himself....oh, SHIT they'd be mad, but oh, well. They SHOULD understand. Gotta do whatcha gotta do to make sure you're safe, right?
[HA, craziest thing I've ever done right out of the gate. Stick pistol. Ph34r.
Whatcha think so far? I know it's early, but I love feedback on this kinda thing >>]
...Scary, Dodd. XD NC-17, eh? Scareh!]
Tobs was on his stomach in the bush when he heard the voice. He'd thought he was hidden...oh, well. Whatever.
What should I do...? If I come out, he could just go ahead and shoot me. If I stay here, I could lose help. Shit. Fuck it, whatever! They sounded real, and didn't add anything unneeded like liers in movies and shit... He slowly got to his knees, kneeling behind the bushes.
He looked around...SHIT, two guys. He dropped back to his stomach, lying prone. In his quick glance, he'd seen that both looked sincere. And empty-handed.
Shit...shit...two...wait...both have their arms up...here goes. He picked up a stick on the ground, moving silently yet quickly. Tobs wrapped part of his shirt around it, making it look quite a bit like a gun. The stick even had a part sticking out from below, like the grip. When I step out, they'll see it's fake. But, from these bushes...the bush's will break up my outline, and it'll look real to them...
He knelt once more, staring at the two kids. Alright. He took a breath. So, is this what Chavez felt like? The breath came out.
All at once, he shot to his feet, standing in the bush. Not a very smart move, in hindsight, but suitable for right now. Actually, his tactic was quite simple.
He pointed the 'pistol' at the boys. "Don't worry, I won't shoot! Now, step out towards the riverbed so I can see you clearly, and turn around in a circle. If you don't do it immediately, I will shoot, but as long as you do that, you'll live." He had the urge to say 'I'll only shoot if you delay, because that'll tell me you're hiding something.' But, he guessed correctly that saying such a thing would give him away, and kept to the bare-bones demands. With a stick wrapped in cloth that would look like a gun from where they were. HA. Honestly, it's possible it could work. It's probable, seeing as not many people would be able to think perfectly straight and normal given the situation...
I can't fucking believe this... He made no extra motions that could give away the 'pistol' as a stick, and overall, it looked quite like an actual pistol. His hand even shook, but not enough to screw over his aim from this range.
Thank you, Tom Clancy. Had he NOT read Clancy, and had no understanding of tactics of this type, he'd have just stepped out into the river. And gotten shot, he guessed. Wrongly in this case.
His face was screwed into an impassive look, giving nothing away. Of course, the second they obeyed him, this would change. He'd pitch the gun to the side, and make some shitty joke or other.
And if they figured it out BEFORE he explained himself....oh, SHIT they'd be mad, but oh, well. They SHOULD understand. Gotta do whatcha gotta do to make sure you're safe, right?
[HA, craziest thing I've ever done right out of the gate. Stick pistol. Ph34r.
Whatcha think so far? I know it's early, but I love feedback on this kinda thing >>]
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Classic Tobs avatar by Kermit.
Sidney's eyes widened as the one boy who he'd seen behind the bush slowly stood up, holding what seemed to resemble a pistol.
Oh, GREAT...first people I encounter and they're going to shoot me...
Deciding that it might be in his best interests to follow what the boy said, Sidney stepped over towards the riverbed, and couldn't help noticing the corpse lying against a tree, a large black youth with a small hole in his forehead. Been shot, obviously.
Yeah, Sid...point out the obvious, that'll do you GREAT in this game of life or death. Just wonderful.
If Sidney had been one to swear like a sailor, like some of his teammates in Rimouski, or even some of the veterans in the dressing room in Pittsburgh, he'd definitely be cursing like mad right now. But that wasn't him. Sidney only found himself swearing when he was REALLY stressed, which honestly, he found didn't happen very often.
But now, of course, as he slowly turned himself in a circle to avoid getting shot, he figured that stress was probably a very good way to describe the weight that had seemed to collapse onto his shoulders, the feeling of anxiety that had wormed its way into his skull. He could almost feel it wriggling around inside, getting comfortable...
Knock it off, damnit! You're not going to do this to yourself. You give into your own fear, your own stress, then you're not going to be able to handle it. Just handle this pressure like you've handled every kind of pressure since you were younger, since the newspapers started following you around. Just be graceful, smile, and relax. What else can you do, really?
Weakly, he smiled at his predicament. If a smile was the way to avoid pressure, then hell, a smile is what he'd use. His hands still held in the air, he turned to look at his captor.
"Hey, buddy...I don't know who you are...heck, I don't know who any of you are, but..." He sighed. "I'm not going to hurt any of you. I just want to get out of this and go home. All I'm armed with is a knife, which to this point I've been using to cut fruit. Fruit, man! I, uh, I don't know if you're playing or not, and I hope to God that you aren't, but please, just know this...I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to go home."
Yeah, that's it, Sid...repeat yourself, make sure that he knows that you're not a threat.
Sidney looked at the boy, and cleared his throat, trying to stop his hands from shaking, and failing quite miserably.
"Look...my name's Sidney...Sid for short...you guys, uh, you guys have names?"
Oh, GREAT...first people I encounter and they're going to shoot me...
Deciding that it might be in his best interests to follow what the boy said, Sidney stepped over towards the riverbed, and couldn't help noticing the corpse lying against a tree, a large black youth with a small hole in his forehead. Been shot, obviously.
Yeah, Sid...point out the obvious, that'll do you GREAT in this game of life or death. Just wonderful.
If Sidney had been one to swear like a sailor, like some of his teammates in Rimouski, or even some of the veterans in the dressing room in Pittsburgh, he'd definitely be cursing like mad right now. But that wasn't him. Sidney only found himself swearing when he was REALLY stressed, which honestly, he found didn't happen very often.
But now, of course, as he slowly turned himself in a circle to avoid getting shot, he figured that stress was probably a very good way to describe the weight that had seemed to collapse onto his shoulders, the feeling of anxiety that had wormed its way into his skull. He could almost feel it wriggling around inside, getting comfortable...
Knock it off, damnit! You're not going to do this to yourself. You give into your own fear, your own stress, then you're not going to be able to handle it. Just handle this pressure like you've handled every kind of pressure since you were younger, since the newspapers started following you around. Just be graceful, smile, and relax. What else can you do, really?
Weakly, he smiled at his predicament. If a smile was the way to avoid pressure, then hell, a smile is what he'd use. His hands still held in the air, he turned to look at his captor.
"Hey, buddy...I don't know who you are...heck, I don't know who any of you are, but..." He sighed. "I'm not going to hurt any of you. I just want to get out of this and go home. All I'm armed with is a knife, which to this point I've been using to cut fruit. Fruit, man! I, uh, I don't know if you're playing or not, and I hope to God that you aren't, but please, just know this...I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to go home."
Yeah, that's it, Sid...repeat yourself, make sure that he knows that you're not a threat.
Sidney looked at the boy, and cleared his throat, trying to stop his hands from shaking, and failing quite miserably.
"Look...my name's Sidney...Sid for short...you guys, uh, you guys have names?"
Well, as previously stated, the language leash has come off. Tobs won't worry about unleashing such words in the midst of total strangers, so...
"You fucking think I'd play a game like this? No, I'm doing this only to save myself. I'm not going to shoot unless you fuck up and try to kill me."
He breathed a sigh of relief as the boy obeyed Toby's orders (easily, too. Heh, guess the 'gun' helped). "Toby Valerik. Tobs if I like you, kay? I like you, you have sense, feel free to call me Tobs. Sid." He grinned. Rather friendly grin, too, a type of assurance. It definitely wasn't a grin someone with intent to kill would give.
His face fell back to the former look, his mouth but a thin line. "Now, Sid, I'd appreciate it if you take your knife out with your left hand, in plain view to me, and place it on the ground. If you'd like, kick it to me, but ...I don't want to completely strip away any sense of security. Like a knife would do much, but still."
Mistake. Not what you shoulda done.
No, that's right, I should do that. Show some goddamned trust to the kid, maybe he'll do the same. Honestly, Tobs didn't care what he did. Sidney didn't look like he'd be able to chuck the knife at him or something. Knife throwing was hard, he'd heard. He hoped he'd heard right.
Belatedly, he noticed that Sid smiled. It was sorta funny how long that'd taken him, but the smile struck him as odd. Tobs wasn't the only one that'd smile in this kind of situation, apparently. Maybe they weren't that different.
Except for the swearing, of course.
Toby's face lit into the same friendly grin, amplifed by what he said. What he said was delivered in the way you'd expect two homesick friends to talk.
"You have no fucking clue how much I'd love going home, Sid, without having to kill anybody. Really, you can't. And, considering I don't know any of you, killing you all wouldn't be hard compared to what you all ahve to go through. So, please, take the knife out slowly, with your left hand, in plain view for me, and at the very least put it on the ground."
His demands had gone from angry, 'I'll kill you' to 'please' in an instant. Heh, that's Tobs for you.
Also, he assumed the rest of them were mainly from the same school. He was right, but didn't know it.
"You fucking think I'd play a game like this? No, I'm doing this only to save myself. I'm not going to shoot unless you fuck up and try to kill me."
He breathed a sigh of relief as the boy obeyed Toby's orders (easily, too. Heh, guess the 'gun' helped). "Toby Valerik. Tobs if I like you, kay? I like you, you have sense, feel free to call me Tobs. Sid." He grinned. Rather friendly grin, too, a type of assurance. It definitely wasn't a grin someone with intent to kill would give.
His face fell back to the former look, his mouth but a thin line. "Now, Sid, I'd appreciate it if you take your knife out with your left hand, in plain view to me, and place it on the ground. If you'd like, kick it to me, but ...I don't want to completely strip away any sense of security. Like a knife would do much, but still."
Mistake. Not what you shoulda done.
No, that's right, I should do that. Show some goddamned trust to the kid, maybe he'll do the same. Honestly, Tobs didn't care what he did. Sidney didn't look like he'd be able to chuck the knife at him or something. Knife throwing was hard, he'd heard. He hoped he'd heard right.
Belatedly, he noticed that Sid smiled. It was sorta funny how long that'd taken him, but the smile struck him as odd. Tobs wasn't the only one that'd smile in this kind of situation, apparently. Maybe they weren't that different.
Except for the swearing, of course.
Toby's face lit into the same friendly grin, amplifed by what he said. What he said was delivered in the way you'd expect two homesick friends to talk.
"You have no fucking clue how much I'd love going home, Sid, without having to kill anybody. Really, you can't. And, considering I don't know any of you, killing you all wouldn't be hard compared to what you all ahve to go through. So, please, take the knife out slowly, with your left hand, in plain view for me, and at the very least put it on the ground."
His demands had gone from angry, 'I'll kill you' to 'please' in an instant. Heh, that's Tobs for you.
Also, he assumed the rest of them were mainly from the same school. He was right, but didn't know it.
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LadyMakaze†
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Chance's attention was redirected momentarily to yet another presence in the area, another boy, whom that he did not recognize at all. Perhaps he was from a different school? Or maybe Chance was never introduced to him?
Regardling the boy coolly, though looking relaxed at the sight of his empty hands, Chance was about to reply when suddenly he was interrupted by the sound of someone who had just emerged from the nearby bush.
Ah hah...so there was someone there after all, Chance thought to himself mildly as the boy shouted orders to them, holding something that resembled a pistol.
A very...odd and peculiar looking pistol.
Being rather observant and alert for his age, Chance was keen to noticing such things. However, for now he kept his thoughts to himself.
"Oy...now look..." he said, in his ever calm and casual voice. "No one's gonna shoot or attack anybody, okay? At least I'm not." He raised his empty hands a bit higher, placing them into plainer sight.
Gazing curiously at the boy who held the pistol, it took a while for Chance to recognize him at one of his fellow schoolmates from Barry Coleson. It seemed as though he was willing to reason. Cautious, albeit, but that was understandable enough, given the circumstances.
"Hey," Chance directed his voice towards Toby, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "You're Valerik, right? One of the seniors? Not sure if you've seen me, probably not, judging that I'm almost never around, but I'm Chance Burton. Don't think we've met, have we?"
Then, his face cracking into a humourous grin, he added, "Nice gun you've got there."
His gaze then turned swiftly and calmly towards Sid.
"Don't recognize you from Barry Coleson...you seem familiar though, guess you're stuck in the same boat with us, huh?" He gave a small laugh, hoping to sound cheerful.
He lowered his palms finally, looking towards each of the two boys in turn.
"Oy...just to letcha know..." he scratched the back of his head, thinking carefully on how to word it. "Well, there's no way I'm buying into this, okay? What's more, I'm looking for a group who's willing to work together to get us off this rock in once piece...."
He gave each of them a calm, meaningful look with his sea green eyes.
"Up to you guys to tell me whether or not I have to keep looking."
Regardling the boy coolly, though looking relaxed at the sight of his empty hands, Chance was about to reply when suddenly he was interrupted by the sound of someone who had just emerged from the nearby bush.
Ah hah...so there was someone there after all, Chance thought to himself mildly as the boy shouted orders to them, holding something that resembled a pistol.
A very...odd and peculiar looking pistol.
Being rather observant and alert for his age, Chance was keen to noticing such things. However, for now he kept his thoughts to himself.
"Oy...now look..." he said, in his ever calm and casual voice. "No one's gonna shoot or attack anybody, okay? At least I'm not." He raised his empty hands a bit higher, placing them into plainer sight.
Gazing curiously at the boy who held the pistol, it took a while for Chance to recognize him at one of his fellow schoolmates from Barry Coleson. It seemed as though he was willing to reason. Cautious, albeit, but that was understandable enough, given the circumstances.
"Hey," Chance directed his voice towards Toby, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "You're Valerik, right? One of the seniors? Not sure if you've seen me, probably not, judging that I'm almost never around, but I'm Chance Burton. Don't think we've met, have we?"
Then, his face cracking into a humourous grin, he added, "Nice gun you've got there."
His gaze then turned swiftly and calmly towards Sid.
"Don't recognize you from Barry Coleson...you seem familiar though, guess you're stuck in the same boat with us, huh?" He gave a small laugh, hoping to sound cheerful.
He lowered his palms finally, looking towards each of the two boys in turn.
"Oy...just to letcha know..." he scratched the back of his head, thinking carefully on how to word it. "Well, there's no way I'm buying into this, okay? What's more, I'm looking for a group who's willing to work together to get us off this rock in once piece...."
He gave each of them a calm, meaningful look with his sea green eyes.
"Up to you guys to tell me whether or not I have to keep looking."
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Tobs cocked an eyebrow at Chance. "You've got some serious ba---" he cut himself off.
Well, fuck, he already figured out my trick.
With steady, slow movements, he stepped out from the bush, standing just beside it. If needed, he could dive to cover easily. However, he doubted he'd have to.
This was an odd development...
The 'pistol' pointed up, and then he snapped it between his fingers. "You got me." He grinned, pitching the pieces to the sides. "Sid, you don't have to drop the knife. Do me a favor and keep it sheathed, though." He shook his head.
"You know, Chance, I think I already fucking hate you. And here I thought my plan was good." He grinned, showing that he was joking a bit about the hate and all. >>;
"Yeah, just moved to Barry Coleson. From Arizona. From ...Michigan." His voice turned sad, for just a second, before he cut it off. And back to happy voice he went.
"Well, before you both skin me for that. Sorry. I had to ...get us all on equal footing, as you all seem to have weapons...I think mine mighta gotten lost or somethin'. Shit, right? Yeah. If you have an extra weapon, that'll be greatly appreciated..." He laughed a bit.
"That is, if you think you can trust me enough to give me a weapon. I did just say how badly I want to get home..." He looked at them both, his eyes searching. Either himself or them.
"But, could I really see my friends again, after killing someone? Doubt it, so I'll not be killing unless some fucking idiot makes me." He laughed once more. "So, even if you have no extra weapons, I want to know. Can you all trust me?"
He walked to Sid, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Sid. Had to at least try. What if, as you said, you were 'playing the game'? Someone playing would have shot, or ran. Someone not would...have done that." He grinned his typical, slightly empty grin.
He wasn't the happiest of people, but he could still grin more than anyone else.
"Fuck, whatever. I guess we may be sticking together. I've read enough to know that being alone will fuck us all over pretty fast. So. Better do some intros." He laughed, scratching his head. He felt a bit out of it. Where the hell had this whole thing come from?
"I'm Toby Valerik. To you two, though, you can call me Tobs. Apparently, I could be the oldest guy here...oh, well. I can handle a gun, just to let you know." He winked, jokingly.
Ah, so that was it. This WHOLE thing was some huge ...release of sorts. He needed to get things out of him. He'd taken the largest hit possible in such a short time...and now, was making jokes about it.
-.-
Toby. As usual.
Well, fuck, he already figured out my trick.
With steady, slow movements, he stepped out from the bush, standing just beside it. If needed, he could dive to cover easily. However, he doubted he'd have to.
This was an odd development...
The 'pistol' pointed up, and then he snapped it between his fingers. "You got me." He grinned, pitching the pieces to the sides. "Sid, you don't have to drop the knife. Do me a favor and keep it sheathed, though." He shook his head.
"You know, Chance, I think I already fucking hate you. And here I thought my plan was good." He grinned, showing that he was joking a bit about the hate and all. >>;
"Yeah, just moved to Barry Coleson. From Arizona. From ...Michigan." His voice turned sad, for just a second, before he cut it off. And back to happy voice he went.
"Well, before you both skin me for that. Sorry. I had to ...get us all on equal footing, as you all seem to have weapons...I think mine mighta gotten lost or somethin'. Shit, right? Yeah. If you have an extra weapon, that'll be greatly appreciated..." He laughed a bit.
"That is, if you think you can trust me enough to give me a weapon. I did just say how badly I want to get home..." He looked at them both, his eyes searching. Either himself or them.
"But, could I really see my friends again, after killing someone? Doubt it, so I'll not be killing unless some fucking idiot makes me." He laughed once more. "So, even if you have no extra weapons, I want to know. Can you all trust me?"
He walked to Sid, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Sid. Had to at least try. What if, as you said, you were 'playing the game'? Someone playing would have shot, or ran. Someone not would...have done that." He grinned his typical, slightly empty grin.
He wasn't the happiest of people, but he could still grin more than anyone else.
"Fuck, whatever. I guess we may be sticking together. I've read enough to know that being alone will fuck us all over pretty fast. So. Better do some intros." He laughed, scratching his head. He felt a bit out of it. Where the hell had this whole thing come from?
"I'm Toby Valerik. To you two, though, you can call me Tobs. Apparently, I could be the oldest guy here...oh, well. I can handle a gun, just to let you know." He winked, jokingly.
Ah, so that was it. This WHOLE thing was some huge ...release of sorts. He needed to get things out of him. He'd taken the largest hit possible in such a short time...and now, was making jokes about it.
-.-
Toby. As usual.
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LadyMakaze†
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Chance couldn't help but laugh at loud at Toby's sardonic comment, his grin turning into a wry one. He crossed his arms calmly over his lean chest.
"Yeah...I always knew I had a way with people," he remarked jokingly as he looked Toby over with a smooth, discerning gaze, doing the same with Sid. So far these two were alright. This Chance mused to himself, feeling renewed for some reason. He had known along that there were still some sane, more or less human people on this island.
"In any case, glad we're on the same track," he told them. "Unless any of you have a half-mind to correct me on that one. But anyhow..." He cleared his throat.
"Like I said, it's Chance, and I've pretty much been everywhere other than school, so I guess that's probably why we haven't quite met yet. Other than the fact that you're a new arrival that is. So, in any case....great to meetcha both, though I'd rather it be in less trying circumstances..." He shrugged a bit, as though this whole thing was simply a minor inconvenience for him.
"Ah yes...weapons..." he remarked, blinking after a moment, as though surprised when Toby had mentioned the topic. "Come to think of it, I've yet to check mine out. Better get to that sooner or later...At least before someone out for my blood comes along..." He grinned at them, looking almost cheerful despite the situation they were in.
"Yeah...I always knew I had a way with people," he remarked jokingly as he looked Toby over with a smooth, discerning gaze, doing the same with Sid. So far these two were alright. This Chance mused to himself, feeling renewed for some reason. He had known along that there were still some sane, more or less human people on this island.
"In any case, glad we're on the same track," he told them. "Unless any of you have a half-mind to correct me on that one. But anyhow..." He cleared his throat.
"Like I said, it's Chance, and I've pretty much been everywhere other than school, so I guess that's probably why we haven't quite met yet. Other than the fact that you're a new arrival that is. So, in any case....great to meetcha both, though I'd rather it be in less trying circumstances..." He shrugged a bit, as though this whole thing was simply a minor inconvenience for him.
"Ah yes...weapons..." he remarked, blinking after a moment, as though surprised when Toby had mentioned the topic. "Come to think of it, I've yet to check mine out. Better get to that sooner or later...At least before someone out for my blood comes along..." He grinned at them, looking almost cheerful despite the situation they were in.
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Sidney sighed as he listened to both other boys introduce themselves. Toby, and Chance...what a name... And it seemed that he had fallen for Toby and his little 'gun trick'. Now that the tension in the river was gone, Sidney shook his head and chuckled a little at Chance's comment that he looked familiar.
The fact that he had been wearing his work jersey, his OFFICIAL team jersey (something that was severely frowned upon) was not lost upon him, it seemed that whomever it had been that had kidnapped him wanted people to know who he was, and were taking the appropriate liberties to do so. Underneath the jersey he had a grey sweatshirt, the hood peeking out from underneath the jersey, giving him lots of warmth. The jersey was obviously a finishing touch from an already deranged and sick mind. Absentmindedly, he picked at the '8' that was on his right arm, part of his number, 87.
Snapping himself out of his daydream, he realized that he should probably say something to put the other two off of the edge that they were likely on. Especially due to the fact that they both seemed to goto the same school.
"Well, there's no way that I'm going to play this game. I'm just not that kind of person. Killing people? Hell no. There's just no way. So if you guys want to find a way out, personally, I'm all for it. Seriously. I've got...well, I've got a lot going on in my real life, and to be honest, I'd much rather like to get back to it than sit here killing other teenagers."
Sidney realized he was probably sounding increasingly like a stiff board, probably because he was so used to speaking to members of the media, being polite, and having to greet everyone with reluctance. As such, he decided to try and relax for the time being, and not reveal his last name, simply for the fact that it might cause more problems for them all.
Of course, the fact that my last name is stencilled on the back of my jersey probably doesn't help matters any...if either of them's a hockey fan, it's probably a lost cause...
"Yeah, so...so fuck this game! Let's try and get out of here...and away from these bodies, too. They kind of smell." Inwardly, he winced. He didn't really like to swear all that much, but if it helped the other two relax, so be it.
"So you're the oldest, huh? How old?"
The fact that he had been wearing his work jersey, his OFFICIAL team jersey (something that was severely frowned upon) was not lost upon him, it seemed that whomever it had been that had kidnapped him wanted people to know who he was, and were taking the appropriate liberties to do so. Underneath the jersey he had a grey sweatshirt, the hood peeking out from underneath the jersey, giving him lots of warmth. The jersey was obviously a finishing touch from an already deranged and sick mind. Absentmindedly, he picked at the '8' that was on his right arm, part of his number, 87.
Snapping himself out of his daydream, he realized that he should probably say something to put the other two off of the edge that they were likely on. Especially due to the fact that they both seemed to goto the same school.
"Well, there's no way that I'm going to play this game. I'm just not that kind of person. Killing people? Hell no. There's just no way. So if you guys want to find a way out, personally, I'm all for it. Seriously. I've got...well, I've got a lot going on in my real life, and to be honest, I'd much rather like to get back to it than sit here killing other teenagers."
Sidney realized he was probably sounding increasingly like a stiff board, probably because he was so used to speaking to members of the media, being polite, and having to greet everyone with reluctance. As such, he decided to try and relax for the time being, and not reveal his last name, simply for the fact that it might cause more problems for them all.
Of course, the fact that my last name is stencilled on the back of my jersey probably doesn't help matters any...if either of them's a hockey fan, it's probably a lost cause...
"Yeah, so...so fuck this game! Let's try and get out of here...and away from these bodies, too. They kind of smell." Inwardly, he winced. He didn't really like to swear all that much, but if it helped the other two relax, so be it.
"So you're the oldest, huh? How old?"
His mind registered Chance's surprise at his weapons comment, and grimaced a bit. He was worried that he'd take it like ...that.
He shook his head. "Chance, don't take it the wrong way. I'm asking about weapons cause I don't want to die because some bastard with a gun finds me, and all I've got are fists." He grinned a bit. "Seriously. I'm the kind of guy who'd deck you for thinking I'm going to kill someone, not the one who'd kill you."
Toby: ^^;;
"I would say nice to meet ya, Chance and Sid, but...that would imply that I think it's nice to be in this 'game.' And, personally, I think I'd beat the shit out of anyone who thinks that." He shrugged.
Even though they were in a life-or-death situation that was some sick, twisted perversion of Darwin's Principles or whatever, he seemed sort of normal. Or, could this be the purest form of them?
Anyway.
Why are you so damn happy? He wanted to ask himself, and Chance...but didn't. He figured the reason he was happy was the same as for Chance.
"This isn't such a bad blace, it seems...nice little---" He looked around. "Island, I assume. Too bad some sick fuck had to do this to us on it." He laughed.
Honestly, he wouldn't be able to deny it if someone said he wanted to kill Danya.
He looked at Sid, and walked up to him. Considering all he knew of hockey was it's on ice, the whole jersey thing just struck him as odd..nothing major, to him. He was at about the same height, but not as built up. If Tobs had been thinking normally, he'd have been slightly intimidated. However, he wasn't, AND he knew a bit more about Sid now. He looked right into his eyes, trying to figure something out. He didn't stare, he searched.
"Really, Sid, you don't have to swear. I don't need people talking like sailors around me just because I do at times to make me fell better." He laughed. It seemed rather obvious to him that Sid was either not prone or not used to swearing. Or both.
"You've got a point...let's go a bit further upstream. Or just away from this fucking river of death..." He'd guessed (correctly) that quite a few people had died near the river.
"Senior year. You have no idea how badly this sucks, too. My Senior year, dammit!" He laughed.
Oh, lots of stuff to laugh at, Tobs!
Anyway.
He began to walk a bit up the river, every so often throwing a glance around, including behind. Not that he didn't trust them...well, he wasn't going to leave himself completely open...but reading Clancy so much had taught him: Be on the lookout unless you WANT to die.
[so, exit or not, in other words?]
He shook his head. "Chance, don't take it the wrong way. I'm asking about weapons cause I don't want to die because some bastard with a gun finds me, and all I've got are fists." He grinned a bit. "Seriously. I'm the kind of guy who'd deck you for thinking I'm going to kill someone, not the one who'd kill you."
Toby: ^^;;
"I would say nice to meet ya, Chance and Sid, but...that would imply that I think it's nice to be in this 'game.' And, personally, I think I'd beat the shit out of anyone who thinks that." He shrugged.
Even though they were in a life-or-death situation that was some sick, twisted perversion of Darwin's Principles or whatever, he seemed sort of normal. Or, could this be the purest form of them?
Anyway.
Why are you so damn happy? He wanted to ask himself, and Chance...but didn't. He figured the reason he was happy was the same as for Chance.
"This isn't such a bad blace, it seems...nice little---" He looked around. "Island, I assume. Too bad some sick fuck had to do this to us on it." He laughed.
Honestly, he wouldn't be able to deny it if someone said he wanted to kill Danya.
He looked at Sid, and walked up to him. Considering all he knew of hockey was it's on ice, the whole jersey thing just struck him as odd..nothing major, to him. He was at about the same height, but not as built up. If Tobs had been thinking normally, he'd have been slightly intimidated. However, he wasn't, AND he knew a bit more about Sid now. He looked right into his eyes, trying to figure something out. He didn't stare, he searched.
"Really, Sid, you don't have to swear. I don't need people talking like sailors around me just because I do at times to make me fell better." He laughed. It seemed rather obvious to him that Sid was either not prone or not used to swearing. Or both.
"You've got a point...let's go a bit further upstream. Or just away from this fucking river of death..." He'd guessed (correctly) that quite a few people had died near the river.
"Senior year. You have no idea how badly this sucks, too. My Senior year, dammit!" He laughed.
Oh, lots of stuff to laugh at, Tobs!
Anyway.
He began to walk a bit up the river, every so often throwing a glance around, including behind. Not that he didn't trust them...well, he wasn't going to leave himself completely open...but reading Clancy so much had taught him: Be on the lookout unless you WANT to die.
[so, exit or not, in other words?]
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LadyMakaze†
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"Understood, friend. Understood," Chance replied casually as began rummaging through his daypack one handed. "And in any case, getting my face busted in would hardly improve my chances of surviving this mess, no? But really...the only reason we should use these weapons is to defend ourselves. And speaking of which...."
He withdrew his hand from the daypack, carefully pulling out a long, narrow strap of cloth. Hung in rings, all dangling in a row, were eight hand grenades.
Chance gave an incredulous whistle, looking impressed at his luck.
"Brilliant," he whispered, before replacing it back into the day pack. "At best I had been expecting a knife of some sort, but really..." He shook his head, before deciding to give a bit of input on his own on their current surroundings.
He noticed the numerous corpses about, as well as the marker of Hawley's grave jutting from the ground. "Yes....nice, indeed..." He shook his head sardonically, and decided to think no more of it. Soon he was matching his stride with Toby's, looking to see if Sid would follow.
"Oy...I suppose you guys ought to give us a look at your own weapons," Chance remarked calmly. "I mean, considering that we're going to be allies..." He smiled wryly.
He withdrew his hand from the daypack, carefully pulling out a long, narrow strap of cloth. Hung in rings, all dangling in a row, were eight hand grenades.
Chance gave an incredulous whistle, looking impressed at his luck.
"Brilliant," he whispered, before replacing it back into the day pack. "At best I had been expecting a knife of some sort, but really..." He shook his head, before deciding to give a bit of input on his own on their current surroundings.
He noticed the numerous corpses about, as well as the marker of Hawley's grave jutting from the ground. "Yes....nice, indeed..." He shook his head sardonically, and decided to think no more of it. Soon he was matching his stride with Toby's, looking to see if Sid would follow.
"Oy...I suppose you guys ought to give us a look at your own weapons," Chance remarked calmly. "I mean, considering that we're going to be allies..." He smiled wryly.
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Sidney saw the two other boys begin to walk away and shrugged to himself. He figured that following might lead him to death, but hell, staying behind might do exactly the same. As he jogged towards the other boys, he pulled out his knife and as he slowed to a pace beside Toby, he held it out in his hand.
"All I've got is this, and like I said before...I've been using it to cut fruit moreso than trying to kill people."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but mentally size up his companions. Toby seemed to be a sarcastic teenager, one who probably couldn't believe the situation that he was placed in. Sidney viewed Toby as someone who would likely be so confused that he would refuse to believe the situation that was going on around him. However, he also seemed like the kind of kid who would shoulder a load of pressure and eventually crack under the strain.
Chance, on the other hand, was like the stereotypical jocks that Sidney had met over the years, except for the fact that he wasn't a jock at all. In fact, while Chance seemed to be cocky and suave, he didn't seem to be as athletic as Toby. Not to discount the boy, he certainly wasn't out of shape, but he definitely had that cocky swagger and arrogant attitude that he knew so well. Of course, his intuition about Chance told him that Chance was probably scared shitless and fronting like there was no tomorrow.
Which unfortunately could prove to be more true than any of them knew.
As he walked beside his two companions, he figured that if they were in this together, they should probably know a bit about each other. At least, that made the most sense.
Anything to take my mind off of...well, off of our own personal hell...
"So, you guys go to, what...Barry Coleson High School? That's in New York, isn't it?"
"All I've got is this, and like I said before...I've been using it to cut fruit moreso than trying to kill people."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but mentally size up his companions. Toby seemed to be a sarcastic teenager, one who probably couldn't believe the situation that he was placed in. Sidney viewed Toby as someone who would likely be so confused that he would refuse to believe the situation that was going on around him. However, he also seemed like the kind of kid who would shoulder a load of pressure and eventually crack under the strain.
Chance, on the other hand, was like the stereotypical jocks that Sidney had met over the years, except for the fact that he wasn't a jock at all. In fact, while Chance seemed to be cocky and suave, he didn't seem to be as athletic as Toby. Not to discount the boy, he certainly wasn't out of shape, but he definitely had that cocky swagger and arrogant attitude that he knew so well. Of course, his intuition about Chance told him that Chance was probably scared shitless and fronting like there was no tomorrow.
Which unfortunately could prove to be more true than any of them knew.
As he walked beside his two companions, he figured that if they were in this together, they should probably know a bit about each other. At least, that made the most sense.
Anything to take my mind off of...well, off of our own personal hell...
"So, you guys go to, what...Barry Coleson High School? That's in New York, isn't it?"
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LadyMakaze†
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Chance looked towards the knife, raising his eyebrows before casting a look towards Sid.
"Actually, better than nothing..." he told him in a sincere tone, looking rather earnest now. "Provided that we don't bump into someone with a gun, at the very least you can protect yourself."
And hopefully it won't come to that, Chance thought to himself, leaving barely a second to mill over the thought.
He stretched his lanky arms behind his back as he walked along the riverside with the two, apparently pleased with himself at having been able to find someone to team up with. What had begun as a fruitless journey now reached the point where he finally struck gold. At least, that was how Chance, being the optimist that he was, looked at it.
And on the topic of where they'd come from...
"Yeap! Barry Coleson, I'm a sophomore there," he remarked. "Although I'm practically never around, exchange trips, and globe-trotting and all that." He was not boastful nor regretful in remarking this, treating it as a simple, ordinary fact.
"Oh yes..." he held out a hand to the two of them for them to shake in turn. "Now that we've been properly introduced, I just wanted to make sure that there isn't a trust issue between us..." He told them this in a rather quiet and serious voice, one that was almost uncharacteristic for the first few minutes they had known him. "After all...I depend on you two, and I want to know if you two are ready to do the same, not only depend on me, but depend on eachother."
"Actually, better than nothing..." he told him in a sincere tone, looking rather earnest now. "Provided that we don't bump into someone with a gun, at the very least you can protect yourself."
And hopefully it won't come to that, Chance thought to himself, leaving barely a second to mill over the thought.
He stretched his lanky arms behind his back as he walked along the riverside with the two, apparently pleased with himself at having been able to find someone to team up with. What had begun as a fruitless journey now reached the point where he finally struck gold. At least, that was how Chance, being the optimist that he was, looked at it.
And on the topic of where they'd come from...
"Yeap! Barry Coleson, I'm a sophomore there," he remarked. "Although I'm practically never around, exchange trips, and globe-trotting and all that." He was not boastful nor regretful in remarking this, treating it as a simple, ordinary fact.
"Oh yes..." he held out a hand to the two of them for them to shake in turn. "Now that we've been properly introduced, I just wanted to make sure that there isn't a trust issue between us..." He told them this in a rather quiet and serious voice, one that was almost uncharacteristic for the first few minutes they had known him. "After all...I depend on you two, and I want to know if you two are ready to do the same, not only depend on me, but depend on eachother."
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Sidney couldn't help but smirk.
"Travelled a lot? Yeah, I can kind of identify with that, I travel a lot, too. Although not really worldwide...moreso in the US and Canada..."
As surprised as he was about Chance's sudden mood-shift, he could understand it. The boy was asking for the trust of his two companions, and it was something that Sidney had been considering doing himself.
That's just it. I meet two guys, and immediately we're on edge with one another. To establish a trust is something that we should be doing much sooner than later, mainly because, well...because if we can't rely on one another in tough situations, what'll we be able to do? If people are actually...playing this game, then, well. We need to make sure that we've got each other's backs in case the worse comes to worse.
Looking at the extended hand that Chance offered, Sidney held his breath for a moment; something he often did when making a big decision. Finally, he grasped the other boy's hand and shook it, a firm grip showing Sidney that this boy was indeed, for real.
This whole game, was in fact...for real.
Fighting for our life, well...that's quite a difference. That's one game that we can't afford to lose.
"If we stick together, we'll probably last a lot longer than we would otherwise. So I'm with you guys. Definitely."
"Travelled a lot? Yeah, I can kind of identify with that, I travel a lot, too. Although not really worldwide...moreso in the US and Canada..."
As surprised as he was about Chance's sudden mood-shift, he could understand it. The boy was asking for the trust of his two companions, and it was something that Sidney had been considering doing himself.
That's just it. I meet two guys, and immediately we're on edge with one another. To establish a trust is something that we should be doing much sooner than later, mainly because, well...because if we can't rely on one another in tough situations, what'll we be able to do? If people are actually...playing this game, then, well. We need to make sure that we've got each other's backs in case the worse comes to worse.
Looking at the extended hand that Chance offered, Sidney held his breath for a moment; something he often did when making a big decision. Finally, he grasped the other boy's hand and shook it, a firm grip showing Sidney that this boy was indeed, for real.
This whole game, was in fact...for real.
Fighting for our life, well...that's quite a difference. That's one game that we can't afford to lose.
"If we stick together, we'll probably last a lot longer than we would otherwise. So I'm with you guys. Definitely."