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Re: And I Need You To Recover ...

Posted: Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:44 pm
by Anderson
"Then, I guess we make it quick. If it means anything, you gave me a run for my money ... and ... I'm sorry it came to this."

"Thanks."

Tyler turned his head slowly to give Simon the cleanest shot he could. Even so, he felt a bit of fear creep in as Simon drew the hood of his sweatshirt up to cover the point of impact, even as he lifted his head a centimeter or two to let the hood slip around cleanly before resting his head on the inside of the fabric once Simon was done moving it.

Would I RATHER he left me here? Of course not.

Tyler Franklin had seen every season of SOTF. He might not have known all of the deaths by heart, but he knew how bad they could get: He knew he could have been left to die on the beach, possibly waiting for hours for the end, or he could have found himself helpless at the hands of a true lunatic. He knew how bad the possibilities were. An opponent willing to kill him quickly, and without malace, though?

Having a good death? I guess that's all I could have hoped for once I got here. I could do a lot worse than this. A LOT worse.

The last few seconds seemed to drag on for an eternity as he waited for the tire iron to come down. Tyler didn't mind: Even with the pain he was in, he knew that the other option, of Simon botching the shot and having to try again, was infinitely worse. Instead, he kept his head as still as he could when he saw Simon start to swing down...

Good luck, Si...

CRA-



Tyler felt a blinding pain for only a fraction of a fraction of a second, his vision going white with that pain. Then the blow did its work, and he lost all consciousness without a sound. Anything else he felt would not be in the physical world.

Of course, the human body is a lot more complex, and isn't wont to shut down immediately. When the tire iron connected, his body twitched; a number of fragments of bone went into his brain, scrambling all of the signals that would have normally gone out.

Because of this, after the blow landed, his lungs kept up a few more ragged breaths before his brain signalled to the rest of his body that he was dead. His heart also kept beating, and a red spot appeared where Simon's blow had landed, the pumping blood partly leaking out onto the hood of his sweatshirt. There was no movement in his eyes, though, which stared out motionlessly into the distance, and only a very light sound of air entering and leaving his lungs automatically.

And though it took a few minutes, Tyler's body soon shut down as well, as his heart stopped beating and his lungs gave in with a final sigh.

B093 - FRANKLIN, TYLER - DECEASED

Re: And I Need You To Recover ...

Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 2:54 am
by decoy73
Simon looked at the body he had just created.

"Tyler?" Nothing. No sign of life. He was dead. The small, expanding splotch of red where Simon had hit Tyler was quite enough to attest to that fact. Simon just stared for a minute or two at the corpse. His first kill, caused by both of them losing control of themselves, over something as minor as food. The mish-mash of emotions stemming from that kill led to one thought.

Never forget.

Simon looked at the slight protrusion under his T-shirt - pulling it out, he revealed the key he had taken from Clio when she had died.

To My Heart.

His eyes returned to the body in front of him, before flitting over to the tree line, and back to the body. Simon stood up. He knew what he had to do ...

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SIX HOURS LATER ...

In ancient Greece, whenever someone died, or at least, when someone died an honorable death, part of the funeral proceedings involved cremation of the body on a funeral pyre. Anyone not familiar with ancient Greek culture or mythology could be pointed to the Star Wars movie "Return of the Jedi," when Luke Skywalker burned the body and armor of Anakin Skywalker after the latter's redemption and death.

Simon may not have been able to match the sheer size or epicness of those funeral pyres, but he figured he had enough for the job as he placed the final branches of punk wood into the makeshift fire pit. As fire pits went, it was quite large, about eight feet in diameter, and about eighteen inches deep, with enough tinder and kindling to start and maintain the fire he needed. There was just one final thing missing from this event ...

Simon walked over to the body of Tyler, and picked it up, moving it to the center of the circle, laying the body down, hands by his sides, eyes closed, and searched through the bags that had formerly been Tyler's.

True to his word, Tyler was fresh out of food, and Simon had swallowed the little water that was left in one gulp, although given the circumstances, Simon had little reason to doubt it in the first place. The only other things of significance in the bags were Tyler's first aid kit, which was still unused, and two decks of cards for the Survival of the Fittest card game. The first aid kit Simon transferred over to his bag. The cards, Simon placed on top of the body.

When you go to ... wherever, at least you'll have that to keep you company.

Simon then stepped outside the fire pit to pick up a punk wood branch, about four inches across and four feet long, and took the lighter which had been in his first aid kit out of his pocket, igniting it, and holding it to the end of the branch held under his arm until the wood started burning of its own accord. As the tip ignited, Simon dropped the lighter and held the flaming end of the branch out to ignite the wood.

The tinder quickly caught fire, spreading out over the circle, as it expanded around the rest of the fire, downwards into the kindling, and upwards to Tyler. Simon just stood about seven feet away, solemnly watching the scene, placing his hands into the pockets of his ... Tyler's sweatshirt. Not a trophy of war, per se. More of a reminder of what he had done, and of the effects of the game on himself and the others, both on the island and back in St. Paul.

Simon bowed his head as he stood there for about fifteen minutes, just watching the makeshift cremation, and then walked over to his bags, shouldered them, and left ...

Never forget ...

((Simon Telamon continued in And Knowledge Itself, is Power))

((Thread concluded))