They weren't listening to her. However, Chase got a very good answer on "Spiky-Head"'s mental health. And boy, did they ever.
And suddenly, it all went to shit once more.
Spiky-Head went on a tirade of her own. Yelling, screaming, getting up in Marty's face, pointing.
Chase opened her mouth to make another comment, but she continued, telling him about metalhead chicks and people being set on fire. Seriously, what was going on now? Were things so close to blowing up before she got here?
She could only watch what happened next.
Zip. A gun was removed. Spiky Head was telling them she was going to live longer than all of them because she had it. It was being waved around like a baton.
Kick. The girl's foot connected with the tent, causing it to topple over with Marty still inside.
Splash. A bag landed in the water, getting soaked and laying there in the shallow water.
Everything, once again, seemed like a surreal movie. Chase could only watch all of this, her forced smile having been replaced with an expression of fear. She looked to Marty. Strawberries and cream hair was approaching him, and suddenly...
Thunk. Marty fell to the ground without a word. Oh god, did she... oh no... she might have flat out killed him. Sure, strawberries and cream hair had said that it was to shut him up, but Chase knew that it could potentially mean death if he got knocked out. Someone rushed from behind her. It was that retro-guy she had noticed, clearly reacting to Marty's apparent death. He pointed a gun at the two girls, telling them to drop their weapons and to stay away from him. A quick look at his face told her that he was crying as he pointed what turned out to be a crossbow.
Chase stood on the spot for a few seconds, wondering what she could do. She could run. Just grab her bag and run as fast as she could in the other direction. They were busy playing soccer with tents and pointing weapons at each other, they wouldn't notice her.
But was this going to be sorted out soon enough?
No. None of this was going to be sorted out.
Even if Marty didn't die, someone was getting to get killed right here, right now. There was nothing she could do. Was there? She had to make a decision right now.
And she made it.
"Guys..." she began.
She looked at the new guy. Then Spiky Head. Then strawberries and cream hair. Then Marty. Deep breath.
"I agree with her. Let's put our w... our weapons down. Down. Not inside people, or over their heads, or... you know. Let's just talk this through."
She looked at Marty, and suddenly bounded over on the sand to him, crouching down to get a better look. What if that blow really was going to kill him, if it didn't already? He seemed unconscious right now, though. He was probably going to need medical attention soon, obviously.
"Hey... Marty?" she asked, using his actual name this time.
Life's a Beach
Open (Especially for killers who're up for a chase scene)
Before she could even attempt to explain herself, there was a shout. Before she could even register what had happened, only just recognizing that someone else had arrived on the scene, there was a dull thud. She watched in the almost overdramatic, OTT slo-mo that one sees in pictures, at least it would have had Aston been in the right state of mind.
Then there was speaking.
The girl, Michelle or something, she'd started to go on about him needing to be quiet.
She listened as everything happened. The new guy screamed, waving another gun about. Aston just stood there, watching, still. The girl started speaking again, but all Aston could hear was echoes. She was still standing there.
And then, the moment she was given the chance to speak, Aston did what she knew best now.
She raised her gun to Michelle's direction, and spoke again.
"Drop the crowbar."
A beat.
"I SAID DROP THE FUCKING ROCK!"
*
"And so, that's what you'll be doing here every weekend, Aston!" The laid-back middle-aged woman sat back down and grabbed the idle water bottle from the lunch desk and taking a sip.
It was Aston's first day at the pet shelter, and she was feeling nervous. She knew that she'd be a great volunteer, but she needed to really know how to take care of these animals, so that they would get a good home. She'd been shown the various cages and homes for each animal, and even gone so far as to get her annoculations for the various diseases she might accidentally bring in. Everything she needed to do had been done, she'd spoken to the adoption agency about her own pets, she'd met the regular team, and she'd even gone through and fed some of the animals that were available for visiting.
"Okay, so how do you like the shelther Aston?"
"It's great! I'm gonna love helping out here!"
"That's wonderful. So what times do you reckon you'll be able to help out here?"
"Uhh, I think maybe some days after school, and definitely on weekends, I don't have much to do then."
"Okay, so let me just go and get your name tag, and you'll be ready to come in whenever you need to!"
As the woman in the gumboots went into the backroom, Aston smiled and bounded over the waist-high gate once again. She had to get a good look at some more of the animals here. A small dog walked up to her from the back of it's shelter, and peeked it's nose through the bars. Still not sure of the procedure, but almost certain she wasn't contagious, Aston bent down on her knees and rubbed the dog on the nose, smiling. It was going to be wonderful working here.
A bird was enclosed in a shelter of it's own to Aston's left, so she shuffled over to it's cage. She smiled again, and made the clicking noise that she'd seen on Skippy that one time. She was so glad she found that on youtube, it was pretty entertaining stuff. The bird fluttered around in it's large enclosure for a while, and Aston was happy.
Still shuffling to her left, she peeked into the next cage.
What she saw was...not something that she should have been able to see.
A young border collie was lying limp on the small bed it was given, not moving except for breathing. Aston wasn't a dog expert, but...she could tell it was in pain. She could see the faint outline of stitches in it's head, but not a small amount, what looked like...it's head had been bashed clean open.
"We rescued this poor guy from his owner."
The woman in the gumboots was standing over her shoulder. Aston didn't even realize she was there.
"The guy who was supposed to be taking care of this poor fellow didn't know how to keep him quiet. When he barked loudly at night, he'd take a rock from the backyard and beat it until it was unconsious. We found him before the damage became irreversable, but...we're afraid if he doesn't get better, we may have to put him down."
"That's...terrible."
"I know, sweetie. We do what we can here, but sometimes we can't save everyone."
*
"-I-I MEAN DROP THE FUCKING CROWBAR!" Aston screamed towards her newest enemy. No one did that for such inane reasons. Shut him up? NO. No one dared to even do such a thing around someone like her. Aston could understand her doing it if he was hostile, but not like this, not like this, for fuck's sake.
"If you don't drop the fucking crowbar, I'm going to shoot you. I'm gonna give you to the count of 5. If you don't drop, you're dead."
Aston didn't really care what happened to her now. Someone who did that to anyone for such a superflous reason had no way of earning her trust or respect anymore.
Licking her lips nervously, she counted.
"1..."
Then there was speaking.
The girl, Michelle or something, she'd started to go on about him needing to be quiet.
She listened as everything happened. The new guy screamed, waving another gun about. Aston just stood there, watching, still. The girl started speaking again, but all Aston could hear was echoes. She was still standing there.
And then, the moment she was given the chance to speak, Aston did what she knew best now.
She raised her gun to Michelle's direction, and spoke again.
"Drop the crowbar."
A beat.
"I SAID DROP THE FUCKING ROCK!"
*
"And so, that's what you'll be doing here every weekend, Aston!" The laid-back middle-aged woman sat back down and grabbed the idle water bottle from the lunch desk and taking a sip.
It was Aston's first day at the pet shelter, and she was feeling nervous. She knew that she'd be a great volunteer, but she needed to really know how to take care of these animals, so that they would get a good home. She'd been shown the various cages and homes for each animal, and even gone so far as to get her annoculations for the various diseases she might accidentally bring in. Everything she needed to do had been done, she'd spoken to the adoption agency about her own pets, she'd met the regular team, and she'd even gone through and fed some of the animals that were available for visiting.
"Okay, so how do you like the shelther Aston?"
"It's great! I'm gonna love helping out here!"
"That's wonderful. So what times do you reckon you'll be able to help out here?"
"Uhh, I think maybe some days after school, and definitely on weekends, I don't have much to do then."
"Okay, so let me just go and get your name tag, and you'll be ready to come in whenever you need to!"
As the woman in the gumboots went into the backroom, Aston smiled and bounded over the waist-high gate once again. She had to get a good look at some more of the animals here. A small dog walked up to her from the back of it's shelter, and peeked it's nose through the bars. Still not sure of the procedure, but almost certain she wasn't contagious, Aston bent down on her knees and rubbed the dog on the nose, smiling. It was going to be wonderful working here.
A bird was enclosed in a shelter of it's own to Aston's left, so she shuffled over to it's cage. She smiled again, and made the clicking noise that she'd seen on Skippy that one time. She was so glad she found that on youtube, it was pretty entertaining stuff. The bird fluttered around in it's large enclosure for a while, and Aston was happy.
Still shuffling to her left, she peeked into the next cage.
What she saw was...not something that she should have been able to see.
A young border collie was lying limp on the small bed it was given, not moving except for breathing. Aston wasn't a dog expert, but...she could tell it was in pain. She could see the faint outline of stitches in it's head, but not a small amount, what looked like...it's head had been bashed clean open.
"We rescued this poor guy from his owner."
The woman in the gumboots was standing over her shoulder. Aston didn't even realize she was there.
"The guy who was supposed to be taking care of this poor fellow didn't know how to keep him quiet. When he barked loudly at night, he'd take a rock from the backyard and beat it until it was unconsious. We found him before the damage became irreversable, but...we're afraid if he doesn't get better, we may have to put him down."
"That's...terrible."
"I know, sweetie. We do what we can here, but sometimes we can't save everyone."
*
"-I-I MEAN DROP THE FUCKING CROWBAR!" Aston screamed towards her newest enemy. No one did that for such inane reasons. Shut him up? NO. No one dared to even do such a thing around someone like her. Aston could understand her doing it if he was hostile, but not like this, not like this, for fuck's sake.
"If you don't drop the fucking crowbar, I'm going to shoot you. I'm gonna give you to the count of 5. If you don't drop, you're dead."
Aston didn't really care what happened to her now. Someone who did that to anyone for such a superflous reason had no way of earning her trust or respect anymore.
Licking her lips nervously, she counted.
"1..."
'How did it come to this? Hah, well that's easy actually. I hit the prick in the head. That's how all this shit happened.' Michelle thought to herself, beginning to think that she maybe shouldn't have resorted to violence. That was always the problem with hindsight, but in the end, the whiner wasn't screaming his throat out and she could have some moments of peace. She still didn't regret it. Regrets were for people who wanted to stare in the past and right now she had to stare straight forward. Straight forward into the gun muzzle that was wavering in front of her. It was kind of ironic that she had been looking so hard for a gun to call her own and now two of them, two, were pointed at her right now.
She wondered what would happen if they shot. She'd die, of course, another hapless loser in the game that Danya had whipped up for them. The chick or the dude would get congratulated by Danya over the radio and he'd have a couple of chortles before life moved on. And that would be it. Her impact on the island would be hitting someone across the head and dying as a result of it. A sliver of fear wormed its way into her heart. She would die unknown, unloved, and be nothing more than a bullet point in the annals of history. She didn't want that. She wanted to be remembered for something. Isn't that why people existed? To do something with their life. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but dying here wasn't it.
She had been called unmotivated. She couldn't even begin to count the times she had heard her parents say that it was okay to get a C or B, just as long as it wasn't failing, it was okay. She remembered her teachers telling her that she could really be something...really be a top star at school if she just put more effort into her work instead of just slapdashing it together and turning it in late or at the last minute.
Well, that was it. She'd have to stop being lazy. Fear was a powerful motivator. There was fear for her life, of course, but it paled in comparison to the realization that she really could die here. She had hit Marty because it had been the laziest, the easiest, method of shutting him up. Quick, painless for her, and all it took was one simple swing. And look where it brought her. Near death with nothing to show for it besides repeated failures at trying to gain something for herself. It was time for this to stop.
It would take planning...planning many moves in advance, much like the chess players she had seen in when she had walked in one of the club rooms. She had to plan for the future, not just the present and that...that would take effort. Effort she wasn't normally used to giving and effort she had very little drive to commit to an endeavor that would most likely end in her death anyway. But as long as she could accomplish something, whether it be a kill, an escape, or even protecting someone's life, she'd be fine with dying.
And so, when everyone around her screamed at her to drop her weapon, she simply did. The crowbar clattered down onto the rocks and she kept her arms at her side, not daring to move. She breathed softly, calmly, ignoring the pounding in her chest. 'Would they really shoot if I hadn't dropped it? Who cares? Better start planning if I wanna get out of this alive. What to do first...well, find a way out of this mess. I'm not staying here for much longer, that's true. Unless I can find some way to persuade them but...'
"There, I dropped it. Are you still going to shoot?"
She wondered what would happen if they shot. She'd die, of course, another hapless loser in the game that Danya had whipped up for them. The chick or the dude would get congratulated by Danya over the radio and he'd have a couple of chortles before life moved on. And that would be it. Her impact on the island would be hitting someone across the head and dying as a result of it. A sliver of fear wormed its way into her heart. She would die unknown, unloved, and be nothing more than a bullet point in the annals of history. She didn't want that. She wanted to be remembered for something. Isn't that why people existed? To do something with their life. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but dying here wasn't it.
She had been called unmotivated. She couldn't even begin to count the times she had heard her parents say that it was okay to get a C or B, just as long as it wasn't failing, it was okay. She remembered her teachers telling her that she could really be something...really be a top star at school if she just put more effort into her work instead of just slapdashing it together and turning it in late or at the last minute.
Well, that was it. She'd have to stop being lazy. Fear was a powerful motivator. There was fear for her life, of course, but it paled in comparison to the realization that she really could die here. She had hit Marty because it had been the laziest, the easiest, method of shutting him up. Quick, painless for her, and all it took was one simple swing. And look where it brought her. Near death with nothing to show for it besides repeated failures at trying to gain something for herself. It was time for this to stop.
It would take planning...planning many moves in advance, much like the chess players she had seen in when she had walked in one of the club rooms. She had to plan for the future, not just the present and that...that would take effort. Effort she wasn't normally used to giving and effort she had very little drive to commit to an endeavor that would most likely end in her death anyway. But as long as she could accomplish something, whether it be a kill, an escape, or even protecting someone's life, she'd be fine with dying.
And so, when everyone around her screamed at her to drop her weapon, she simply did. The crowbar clattered down onto the rocks and she kept her arms at her side, not daring to move. She breathed softly, calmly, ignoring the pounding in her chest. 'Would they really shoot if I hadn't dropped it? Who cares? Better start planning if I wanna get out of this alive. What to do first...well, find a way out of this mess. I'm not staying here for much longer, that's true. Unless I can find some way to persuade them but...'
"There, I dropped it. Are you still going to shoot?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Tythanin. 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.
Joshua's aim trembled as he tried to keep the sights of his crossbow pistol aimed at Michelle's head. A thousand thoughts where rushing through his head at that particular moment... Was Marty dead? Why had this girl decided to whack him over the head with a freakin' crowbar? Was it too late to do anything about it?
And most of all, if Marty WAS dead, should he pull the trigger and the crowbar-wielding girl's life right here and now?
She's clearly a liability! I mean, DUDE! What kind of person hits a guy over the head with a goddamn crowbar Freeman style?!? If you let her go, she'll just go off an kill more people. People like Daniel, and Everett, and Marty an... an...... Oh fuck man, what the hell am I saying? I'm not a murderer, I don't have to stoop to their level! Its this game man... This fuckin' game. It turns good people into merciless killers, like Maria Graham, and Sarah Atwall, and even friggin' Colin Falcone! COLING FREAKING FALCONE KILLED SOMEONE! THATS how fucked up this game is, man......
Thankfully, things didn't quite go to hell within the next few moments. Some girl with Spikey hair started aiming her own gun at Michelle, prompting her to drop her crowbar to the ground. Relieved that he wouldn't have to keep threatening her anymore, Joshua lowered his gun as well and listened to the cute chick right next to him. She definitely had the right idea, trying to calm everything down rather then exacerbate things. That exactly what he should have been doing, rather then waving his gun around like a cowboy...
Jesus, I should be more careful next time. If that gun went off, who knows who it could have... Wait, oh god, MARTY!
He ran over to where Marty was laying on the ground alongside Chase and started looking all over him, trying to figure out if he was okay.
"Jesus Christ, Marty? You okay man?!? Speak to me! Don't you freakin' die on me man, not after all I went through to find you..."
It took a while, but he eventually figured out judging by the pulse in his neck that Marty was in fact unconscious as opposed to stone dead.
"Oh thank god... He's alive! Unconscious as a rock sure, but damnit he's still okay!"
More tears began to swell on the big lug's face. Not tears of sadness or anger like before, but tears of joy as he realised that he'd more or less managed to complete his self-imposed quest. He'd actually done it! He found Marty, alive and well!
Okay, maybe not well. But close enough! Now all he had to do was get him to somewhere safe...
"Hold on Marty, I'll get you out of here..." he said as he picked up the small boy and slung him over his shoulders. He was SLIGHTLY heavy, but giving his weight compared to Joshua's size it wasn't that hard to carry him around. He moved away from the others, turning back once to say "Uh, you can tag along if any of you want... There's a lot of questions I wanna ask and stuff. But no time for that, gotta get Marty somewhere safe..."
And on that note, the tall student left with his unconscious best friend slung over his back.
((Joshua Krakowski and Marty J. Lovett continued in Wind in the Willow))
And most of all, if Marty WAS dead, should he pull the trigger and the crowbar-wielding girl's life right here and now?
She's clearly a liability! I mean, DUDE! What kind of person hits a guy over the head with a goddamn crowbar Freeman style?!? If you let her go, she'll just go off an kill more people. People like Daniel, and Everett, and Marty an... an...... Oh fuck man, what the hell am I saying? I'm not a murderer, I don't have to stoop to their level! Its this game man... This fuckin' game. It turns good people into merciless killers, like Maria Graham, and Sarah Atwall, and even friggin' Colin Falcone! COLING FREAKING FALCONE KILLED SOMEONE! THATS how fucked up this game is, man......
Thankfully, things didn't quite go to hell within the next few moments. Some girl with Spikey hair started aiming her own gun at Michelle, prompting her to drop her crowbar to the ground. Relieved that he wouldn't have to keep threatening her anymore, Joshua lowered his gun as well and listened to the cute chick right next to him. She definitely had the right idea, trying to calm everything down rather then exacerbate things. That exactly what he should have been doing, rather then waving his gun around like a cowboy...
Jesus, I should be more careful next time. If that gun went off, who knows who it could have... Wait, oh god, MARTY!
He ran over to where Marty was laying on the ground alongside Chase and started looking all over him, trying to figure out if he was okay.
"Jesus Christ, Marty? You okay man?!? Speak to me! Don't you freakin' die on me man, not after all I went through to find you..."
It took a while, but he eventually figured out judging by the pulse in his neck that Marty was in fact unconscious as opposed to stone dead.
"Oh thank god... He's alive! Unconscious as a rock sure, but damnit he's still okay!"
More tears began to swell on the big lug's face. Not tears of sadness or anger like before, but tears of joy as he realised that he'd more or less managed to complete his self-imposed quest. He'd actually done it! He found Marty, alive and well!
Okay, maybe not well. But close enough! Now all he had to do was get him to somewhere safe...
"Hold on Marty, I'll get you out of here..." he said as he picked up the small boy and slung him over his shoulders. He was SLIGHTLY heavy, but giving his weight compared to Joshua's size it wasn't that hard to carry him around. He moved away from the others, turning back once to say "Uh, you can tag along if any of you want... There's a lot of questions I wanna ask and stuff. But no time for that, gotta get Marty somewhere safe..."
And on that note, the tall student left with his unconscious best friend slung over his back.
((Joshua Krakowski and Marty J. Lovett continued in Wind in the Willow))
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((Skipping to get the hell outta here))
It all went according to plan.
The original plan, anyway, where no one died. If that girl hadn't given up her crowbar, Aston would have shot, no matter how she would have lost all her allies. Well, could she really call them allies if she didn't even care about their wellbeing that much.
The other boy must have been his friend, cause the moment the girl dropped her bludgeon, he went in and picked him up, pulled him over his shoulders, and carried him out of there. Using this opportunity, Aston strolled up, gun still at the ready, to Michelle, scooped down in the sand and picked up her crowbar. Examining it from various angles, she smiled a weak smile.
"I suppose you won't be needing this anymore, seeing as how you're not gonna be dragged up for manslaughter anymore," Aston commented, before scanning the area.
She had to follow the two guys that just left. If she didn't have anyone to travel with, then her life would simply be a lot shorter if anyone playing found her.
Running over to the water, she grabbed the bag that was carressed by the waves and slung it over her gunslinging shoulder. She would have brought the tent as well, but the wind had long since pushed it down the beach towards the cliffs. It wasn't of any use to anyone anyway, was it?
Aston headed towards the direction the rockhead had started off towards, before turning around and, still walking in that direction, spoke to the two remaining girls.
"I personally don't give a crap if you come," Aston sneered towards the multi-colour haired girl, before switching her glance to the goth chick "But you can come if you want. None of us are playing, at least as far as I know."
Turning around again, she ran after the tracks the boy made in the sand and the grass.
"I'm coming whether you like it or not!"
((Aston Bennett continues in Wind in the Willow))
It all went according to plan.
The original plan, anyway, where no one died. If that girl hadn't given up her crowbar, Aston would have shot, no matter how she would have lost all her allies. Well, could she really call them allies if she didn't even care about their wellbeing that much.
The other boy must have been his friend, cause the moment the girl dropped her bludgeon, he went in and picked him up, pulled him over his shoulders, and carried him out of there. Using this opportunity, Aston strolled up, gun still at the ready, to Michelle, scooped down in the sand and picked up her crowbar. Examining it from various angles, she smiled a weak smile.
"I suppose you won't be needing this anymore, seeing as how you're not gonna be dragged up for manslaughter anymore," Aston commented, before scanning the area.
She had to follow the two guys that just left. If she didn't have anyone to travel with, then her life would simply be a lot shorter if anyone playing found her.
Running over to the water, she grabbed the bag that was carressed by the waves and slung it over her gunslinging shoulder. She would have brought the tent as well, but the wind had long since pushed it down the beach towards the cliffs. It wasn't of any use to anyone anyway, was it?
Aston headed towards the direction the rockhead had started off towards, before turning around and, still walking in that direction, spoke to the two remaining girls.
"I personally don't give a crap if you come," Aston sneered towards the multi-colour haired girl, before switching her glance to the goth chick "But you can come if you want. None of us are playing, at least as far as I know."
Turning around again, she ran after the tracks the boy made in the sand and the grass.
"I'm coming whether you like it or not!"
((Aston Bennett continues in Wind in the Willow))
(Sorry, skipping to get out of dangerzone cause yeah.)
Well, she was alive.
That was really the only good thing that came out of this new endeavor of hers. That new kid, crying about Marty this and Marty that, gathered the unconscious kid and just ran off, giving a sort of invite to the rest of the people gathered around here to meet up. And then the bitch with the gun came up to her and took that damn crowbar away. Michelle said nothing, just scowled as her only weapon was taken away from her. She then ran off as well, following the new kid and also tossing off some sort of passive-aggressive invite.
Of course she was going to follow along. If she still had her crowbar, sure, she might have just gone somewhere else, but there was no way in hell she was going to go back to being alone with even a weapon. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, running after the gun chick to whatever their new destination would be. She'd find a way to get her crowbar back, no problem. Maybe even get one of those guns too. She'd find a way.
It was a minor setback but hey, she was still alive.
(( Michelle O'Cain continued in Wind in the Willow. ))
Well, she was alive.
That was really the only good thing that came out of this new endeavor of hers. That new kid, crying about Marty this and Marty that, gathered the unconscious kid and just ran off, giving a sort of invite to the rest of the people gathered around here to meet up. And then the bitch with the gun came up to her and took that damn crowbar away. Michelle said nothing, just scowled as her only weapon was taken away from her. She then ran off as well, following the new kid and also tossing off some sort of passive-aggressive invite.
Of course she was going to follow along. If she still had her crowbar, sure, she might have just gone somewhere else, but there was no way in hell she was going to go back to being alone with even a weapon. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, running after the gun chick to whatever their new destination would be. She'd find a way to get her crowbar back, no problem. Maybe even get one of those guns too. She'd find a way.
It was a minor setback but hey, she was still alive.
(( Michelle O'Cain continued in Wind in the Willow. ))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Tythanin. 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.
Drop your weapon. No, you drop it.
That was essentially what the conversation had devolved into.
Spiky Head seemed to tense up even more, even calling the crowbar a rock, of all things. It was clear that she was out of her mind, waving the gun around like it was no one's business, pointing it at the other girl. The girl complied, placing the metal object on the ground.
But, that's when Chase had a revelation.
Everyone here was probably out of their minds. Not just Marty, Spiky Head, strawberries and cream hair, or Retro guy, but literally close to everyone on this island was some kind of nutjob or another. Sanity had become a forgotten word a long time ago. Of course it would, that's what Danya wanted. It wasn't as if people would be friendly to one another, or at least civil. People wanted to win. People wanted to live. That meant losing your mind and killing.
So, every single person here had a good chance of being a psychopath that would kill. Hell, good chance? An almost definite chance. She looked down at Marty. He seemed to be calmly resting, who's to say that if he woke up, he would attack someone? She knew how much of a spaz he could be at school, and how much he freaked out just at a question. He probably would attack someone if given the chance. It wasn't like he had a reason to keep her around, did he?
Chase couldn't help but sigh, watching the scene in front of her. It still seemed like some sort of bizarre movie, about kicking over tents and such.
But soon, it ended. People were running off. And Chase had to make another choice.
Spiky Head had invited her over. Retro Guy had taken Marty off, in tears after seeing him alive. Strawberries and cream hair soon ran after them.
She saw the scene at the beach. She saw what Spiky Head and Strawberries and Cream were capable of. She saw what weapons they had. But she had no clue what to do now.
But there had to be a choice.
Wait... she could remember the look on Marty's face. That wasn't insanity, that was fear, was it? He was scared of those two... oh god. What if they were going to do something to him? They already knocked him unconscious, they could flat out kill him.
But, she made her choice once more.
She was going to do the right thing, even if all of them were messed up in the membrane.
Chase went to her bag and lifted it up over her shoulder. She was going to follow them, even if it meant her death. There was no where else for her to go. Plus, Marty was probably close to death.
Besides. She refused to join in on the madness. Just like how she had repeatedly told herself that she refused to die here. Come to think of it, she probably looked just as insane as well.
And so, Anna Chase followed them, hoping that Marty was alright.
((Anna Chase continued in Wind In The Willows. Thread is closed))
That was essentially what the conversation had devolved into.
Spiky Head seemed to tense up even more, even calling the crowbar a rock, of all things. It was clear that she was out of her mind, waving the gun around like it was no one's business, pointing it at the other girl. The girl complied, placing the metal object on the ground.
But, that's when Chase had a revelation.
Everyone here was probably out of their minds. Not just Marty, Spiky Head, strawberries and cream hair, or Retro guy, but literally close to everyone on this island was some kind of nutjob or another. Sanity had become a forgotten word a long time ago. Of course it would, that's what Danya wanted. It wasn't as if people would be friendly to one another, or at least civil. People wanted to win. People wanted to live. That meant losing your mind and killing.
So, every single person here had a good chance of being a psychopath that would kill. Hell, good chance? An almost definite chance. She looked down at Marty. He seemed to be calmly resting, who's to say that if he woke up, he would attack someone? She knew how much of a spaz he could be at school, and how much he freaked out just at a question. He probably would attack someone if given the chance. It wasn't like he had a reason to keep her around, did he?
Chase couldn't help but sigh, watching the scene in front of her. It still seemed like some sort of bizarre movie, about kicking over tents and such.
But soon, it ended. People were running off. And Chase had to make another choice.
Spiky Head had invited her over. Retro Guy had taken Marty off, in tears after seeing him alive. Strawberries and cream hair soon ran after them.
She saw the scene at the beach. She saw what Spiky Head and Strawberries and Cream were capable of. She saw what weapons they had. But she had no clue what to do now.
But there had to be a choice.
Wait... she could remember the look on Marty's face. That wasn't insanity, that was fear, was it? He was scared of those two... oh god. What if they were going to do something to him? They already knocked him unconscious, they could flat out kill him.
But, she made her choice once more.
She was going to do the right thing, even if all of them were messed up in the membrane.
Chase went to her bag and lifted it up over her shoulder. She was going to follow them, even if it meant her death. There was no where else for her to go. Plus, Marty was probably close to death.
Besides. She refused to join in on the madness. Just like how she had repeatedly told herself that she refused to die here. Come to think of it, she probably looked just as insane as well.
And so, Anna Chase followed them, hoping that Marty was alright.
((Anna Chase continued in Wind In The Willows. Thread is closed))