To its credit, Al's subconscious mind had been doing an admirable job of keeping him in the dark up until that point. But, between the punch and the apology-lecture, there was little that could be done to shield Albert from the truth, and the cliche 'This is actually happening!' realization hit him. The response was... surprisingly minor. The boy's features softened, and he shook his head, taking Dougal's hand and pulling himself back to his feet.
"No worries." He smiled, brushing himself off, and blowing a lock of blue-and-blonde hair out of his face. "I'm sure we'll figure something out." Alright, so maybe he didn't need his subconscious' help to ignore the levity of the situation. "Oh, you got skis? Man, I wish there was some snow around here. But wait, then it'd get cold..." Shrugging, Al walked over to the other numbered bag, which he assumed was his, since it was sitting next to the one he packed for the trip. "Wonder what I got?"
Albert unzipped the bag labeled B151, and was greeted by what someone else might recognize as a Soviet 12-Gauge, Pump-Action TOZ-194. All he saw was a shiny black and silver shotgun. "Woah! Dougal, look at this!" Pulling the weapon (which was significantly too big for Al to wield comfortably) out of the bag, he grinned, hefting it in front of him, and doing his best Ahnold impression, before descending into a fit of giggles. "Ah'll be bahk!"
Dude, how come I feel like i'm not in Kansas anymore?
B10 Start
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JoystickHero†
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:34 am
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Albert grabbed Dougal's hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. He seemed to a bit more serious (going over to check his weapons), but he still hadn't completely come down from cuckoo land, still cracking jokes and doing a terrible impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger as he admired his rather hefty weapon draw, which was a shotgun....Wait, a shotgun? That could be useful. Dougal wasn't a gun nut, but he knew enough to be able to name the weapon, and enough to know it was one of the better weapons on the island, especially in contrast to his own use-impaired weapon. "Woah. Nice draw there, mate", he nodded approvingly, having an ally with a shotgun being the only good thing to have happened on the island so far, "Check for an instruction manual, Albert. I can do the shooting if you'd prefer that." Dougal weren't exactly mentally prepared for using a gun, but Albert was even less so. It would probably take seeing a body to finally make Albert realise the full gravity of the situation they were in.
As he walked over to his own bags, Dougal still had no idea what to do on the island. An escape plan? Nah, he'd join it if one with a decent chance started, but he doubted he and Albert could get one to work. It'd just mean a nasty, disappointing death from collar removal, and wouldn't help anyone. No, Dougal would have to be the last one standing if he wanted to get off. Unlike most of his peers, most of his friends and his girlfriend were still alive, still in St. Paul. The nihilist had something to live for. He COULD play, but for all the nihilist talk he would spout in debates and tell himself in his head, Dougal wasn't comfortable with the thought of killing his classmates. Punching Albert was probably as far as he could go in terms of violence against his fellow Bayview students. He didn't want to become a bad person because of this stupid game, no-one would want anything to do with him if he made his way back. The other way was simple; survive, just kill in self defence, hold out until the end. That seemed the most logical way, and would be best for his mental health. Yeah, he'd probably go down that route, but he wouldn't rule the other options out at this early stage.
"Well, Albert...." he said, slinging his two bags over his shoulders (he would check them later, he knew what was in the SOTF-issued bag and he didn't expect much from his other bag to be gone) and grabbing the two ski sticks (an old wooden stick was better than nothing), "Guess we just have to try and survive as long as possible. Maybe wait for a rescue attempt", he hopefully added, being uncharacteristically optimistic more for Albert's sake than his own (if the US government was able or was willing to stop the SOTF ACT, then they would have done so by now.) "Should we get going?" he asked, pointing to a nondescript part of the forest in the nearby distance.
As he walked over to his own bags, Dougal still had no idea what to do on the island. An escape plan? Nah, he'd join it if one with a decent chance started, but he doubted he and Albert could get one to work. It'd just mean a nasty, disappointing death from collar removal, and wouldn't help anyone. No, Dougal would have to be the last one standing if he wanted to get off. Unlike most of his peers, most of his friends and his girlfriend were still alive, still in St. Paul. The nihilist had something to live for. He COULD play, but for all the nihilist talk he would spout in debates and tell himself in his head, Dougal wasn't comfortable with the thought of killing his classmates. Punching Albert was probably as far as he could go in terms of violence against his fellow Bayview students. He didn't want to become a bad person because of this stupid game, no-one would want anything to do with him if he made his way back. The other way was simple; survive, just kill in self defence, hold out until the end. That seemed the most logical way, and would be best for his mental health. Yeah, he'd probably go down that route, but he wouldn't rule the other options out at this early stage.
"Well, Albert...." he said, slinging his two bags over his shoulders (he would check them later, he knew what was in the SOTF-issued bag and he didn't expect much from his other bag to be gone) and grabbing the two ski sticks (an old wooden stick was better than nothing), "Guess we just have to try and survive as long as possible. Maybe wait for a rescue attempt", he hopefully added, being uncharacteristically optimistic more for Albert's sake than his own (if the US government was able or was willing to stop the SOTF ACT, then they would have done so by now.) "Should we get going?" he asked, pointing to a nondescript part of the forest in the nearby distance.
"You... really think we can beat this?"
"Hell YEAH I do! No way we're gonna let whatshisname get the better of us!"
Things were finally beginning to look on the brightside for Joshua Krakowski at that moment. Sure he was in the middle of nowhere, stuck on some unnamed island with an explosive collar around his neck. And that he and Everett had just come across proof that they really were in actual danger here... It still wasn't enough to lower the tall boy's almost impossibly high spirits. He and Everett were going to get out of this crazy situation alive, no matter what the odds!
Which, he did admit, WERE kinda high in this case... He didn't mention it to Everett, but he knew fine well that getting out would be a lot harder then it sounds on paper. Even without the explosive collars there'd be stuff like patrol boats, helicopters, armed terrorists and the plain and simple fact that none of them had the slightest clue where they were. Chances are, they'd be lucky enough to figure out a way to get to civilisation let alone get these stupid collars off...
Then again, its not like its uncharted or anything... People used to live here, right? So surely that'd mean there would be people out there who know of this place... Whats to stop somebody from going "Hey, I recognise that place! I used to live there!" and alerting the authorities? Hell, this place probably had its own Wiki page and everything! Surely SOMEBODY will eventually...
......
... Hey wait a sec, wheres my metal stick thingy? HOLY CRAP, I must have left it back way up the mountain with the rest of my stuff! Must of forgotten about it when Everett showed up, Duh!
"Now, uh, first things first: We ought to get away from Sir Stinksalot over there. I propose heading back to where we met personally. Got a good view of the island and everything from up there..."
"Hell YEAH I do! No way we're gonna let whatshisname get the better of us!"
Things were finally beginning to look on the brightside for Joshua Krakowski at that moment. Sure he was in the middle of nowhere, stuck on some unnamed island with an explosive collar around his neck. And that he and Everett had just come across proof that they really were in actual danger here... It still wasn't enough to lower the tall boy's almost impossibly high spirits. He and Everett were going to get out of this crazy situation alive, no matter what the odds!
Which, he did admit, WERE kinda high in this case... He didn't mention it to Everett, but he knew fine well that getting out would be a lot harder then it sounds on paper. Even without the explosive collars there'd be stuff like patrol boats, helicopters, armed terrorists and the plain and simple fact that none of them had the slightest clue where they were. Chances are, they'd be lucky enough to figure out a way to get to civilisation let alone get these stupid collars off...
Then again, its not like its uncharted or anything... People used to live here, right? So surely that'd mean there would be people out there who know of this place... Whats to stop somebody from going "Hey, I recognise that place! I used to live there!" and alerting the authorities? Hell, this place probably had its own Wiki page and everything! Surely SOMEBODY will eventually...
......
... Hey wait a sec, wheres my metal stick thingy? HOLY CRAP, I must have left it back way up the mountain with the rest of my stuff! Must of forgotten about it when Everett showed up, Duh!
"Now, uh, first things first: We ought to get away from Sir Stinksalot over there. I propose heading back to where we met personally. Got a good view of the island and everything from up there..."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Josh was keeping it together. Keeping calm. Staying focused. It was impressive, very impressive. Something Everett wished he could be. He'd never been tough. Never been all that smart. Never been athletic, or talented, or anything. All he had was his stubbornness, his determination to make something of himself and drag himself up to the level other people naturally held steady at without the slightest modicum of effort. Now, even that was worthless. Sure, he had a good GPA, but what did that matter here? He was no survivor. His weapon had been a pathetic joke, and even had it not been, he'd never have had the guts to use it. No, Everett tried to imagine himself competing on this island like he had in school, and it was laughable. The thought of him wheezing and puffing as he slowly jogged after a fleeing figure, machine gun slipping from his clammy hands as he tripped over some loose stone, was not pleasant. There was no way he'd have been able to ambush people, either. He was not a small person, not the sort who could blend into his surroundings. Especially not in his white, fancy shirt.
It was way too hot, the shirt. He was suddenly very glad he'd lost his jacket. It was still back in Saint Paul, somewhere, with that boy he'd lent it to on that rainy day. Sean. He'd looked for him on the way to the buses, to confront him and retrieve the article of clothing (he needed it for graduation) without luck. Everett blinked. That... that gave him an idea. Something to be sure to do before he died.
Because, despite his optimism of a moment ago, he suspected at least one person would be up for this crazy game. That, or he'd be the one to kick it from thirst, or starvation, or something dumb like that. Didn't the fat guy die first in movies, or something? He didn't run quickly. As soon as the danger zones were announced, he could be royally screwed. He couldn't focus on that now, though. He needed to keep his spirits up. Abstractly, he realized that, bad as things were, he was being overly pessimistic. It was from the stress. His self-esteem, tenuous on the best of days, was already a casualty of this game. After all, what could a fat boy with good grades possibly do in this situation?
He could try. There was nothing more. He could do his best, help Josh as far as he could. It would have to be enough.
"Yeah," he said. "That sounds good. We could... get a better view of this place or something. And maybe see if we can see anyone else, to help us."
It wasn't much. Really, just something to do, to kill time. He was not looking forward to the hike back up the mountain. He really, really needed a rest here soon. Something to eat and drink. Wait, no, not near the body. Oh god. How could he even think of food near the body? That was horrible. No, he had to keep going for a little. Food and drink could come later. Away from this nauseating odor of death and vomit.
He had to start pretending again. Keep his spirits up. They'd be fine. Just fine.
"So," he said, with as much forced cheer as he could. "Shall we begin our merry adventure?"
The words were strained, even to his own ears.
It was way too hot, the shirt. He was suddenly very glad he'd lost his jacket. It was still back in Saint Paul, somewhere, with that boy he'd lent it to on that rainy day. Sean. He'd looked for him on the way to the buses, to confront him and retrieve the article of clothing (he needed it for graduation) without luck. Everett blinked. That... that gave him an idea. Something to be sure to do before he died.
Because, despite his optimism of a moment ago, he suspected at least one person would be up for this crazy game. That, or he'd be the one to kick it from thirst, or starvation, or something dumb like that. Didn't the fat guy die first in movies, or something? He didn't run quickly. As soon as the danger zones were announced, he could be royally screwed. He couldn't focus on that now, though. He needed to keep his spirits up. Abstractly, he realized that, bad as things were, he was being overly pessimistic. It was from the stress. His self-esteem, tenuous on the best of days, was already a casualty of this game. After all, what could a fat boy with good grades possibly do in this situation?
He could try. There was nothing more. He could do his best, help Josh as far as he could. It would have to be enough.
"Yeah," he said. "That sounds good. We could... get a better view of this place or something. And maybe see if we can see anyone else, to help us."
It wasn't much. Really, just something to do, to kill time. He was not looking forward to the hike back up the mountain. He really, really needed a rest here soon. Something to eat and drink. Wait, no, not near the body. Oh god. How could he even think of food near the body? That was horrible. No, he had to keep going for a little. Food and drink could come later. Away from this nauseating odor of death and vomit.
He had to start pretending again. Keep his spirits up. They'd be fine. Just fine.
"So," he said, with as much forced cheer as he could. "Shall we begin our merry adventure?"
The words were strained, even to his own ears.
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JoystickHero†
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:34 am
After what seemed like an eternity, Al finally calmed down, and looked down at his weapon, then back at Dougal. There was a momentary pause of confusion. 'The shooti- oh... right...' Ignoring the thoughts that tried to bubble up, the boy smiled again, and lightly tossed the TOZ to his friend, before fishing through the bag. "Think I found it!" Al called over his shoulder, holding up a piece of paper and a cardboard box of fourteen shells up triumphantly. He stood, and grabbed the bag, (having forgotten his own one at home) and walked back over to where Dougal was standing.
His grin was, for the moment, diminished as he listened to his friend offer up suggestions. Survive, rescue? "...you're really taking this seriously, aren't you?" Al questioned, perhaps a bit more insensitively than he intended. But, he didn't really have any better ideas, and he usually relied on Dougal to come up with the plans anyways. So, after a moment of thought, the boy gave a nod of determination, and hefted the numbered bag (bright yellow raft now sticking out of the open top) over his shoulder. "Sure, lead on!"
His grin was, for the moment, diminished as he listened to his friend offer up suggestions. Survive, rescue? "...you're really taking this seriously, aren't you?" Al questioned, perhaps a bit more insensitively than he intended. But, he didn't really have any better ideas, and he usually relied on Dougal to come up with the plans anyways. So, after a moment of thought, the boy gave a nod of determination, and hefted the numbered bag (bright yellow raft now sticking out of the open top) over his shoulder. "Sure, lead on!"
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
"Thanks, man," Dougal muttered, catching the shotgun as Albert tossed it over to him. Right, he knew the basics of loading a shotgun. That was the bit you put the shells in, and pumping the shotgun did...something. It wasn't just for making a dramatic noise, he knew that. Still, he had a pretty good chance of survival with this. And as Albert produced an instruction manual and a box of shells from his bag, Dougal took them off of Al's hands and stuffed the box and the book in his pockets. He'd read it when they were travelling, make sure he knew what to do and had the shotgun prepared for a surprise attack. "Alright, let's get going away from this mountain."
As he set off walking towards the trees, he asked Al a question. "So, what do you think we should do? Play this game a bit, or just keep to ourselves?" Rescue and escape would be impossible. Hell, even if the SAS or CIA or something found this island, Danya would just detonate the collars.
He had a hunch someone was nearby, but he didn't care. He just kept his eyes ahead off him, making sure he didn't trip, ignoring any sounds coming back from the mountain. In an ideal world, Dougal wouldn't come across anyone else, friend, foe or neutral, until the final four, then Albert would have a quick, painless death thanks to one of the other two, and the remaining two would kill each other, and he'd get to go home with as much of his sanity intact as possible. But that wouldn't happen, so until then he'd just stay vigilant and try and stay away from others. Hopefully Albert would do the same.
As he set off walking towards the trees, he asked Al a question. "So, what do you think we should do? Play this game a bit, or just keep to ourselves?" Rescue and escape would be impossible. Hell, even if the SAS or CIA or something found this island, Danya would just detonate the collars.
He had a hunch someone was nearby, but he didn't care. He just kept his eyes ahead off him, making sure he didn't trip, ignoring any sounds coming back from the mountain. In an ideal world, Dougal wouldn't come across anyone else, friend, foe or neutral, until the final four, then Albert would have a quick, painless death thanks to one of the other two, and the remaining two would kill each other, and he'd get to go home with as much of his sanity intact as possible. But that wouldn't happen, so until then he'd just stay vigilant and try and stay away from others. Hopefully Albert would do the same.
"So, shall we begin our merry adventure?"
"No time like the present!"
And on that note, Joshua began to make his way back up the mountain pathway, motioning Everett to follow along. Getting up the mountain was surprisingly more hard work then it was getting down... Well, Joshua was surprised anyway. Being the kind of guy whose never gone on a proper hike before meant that he was more than a little unprepared for the tiring task ahead of him.
Nevertheless, he trudged on wearily with the same hope and determination as before. He had to stand tall for Everett, make sure the poor guy didn't break down like he did earlier... And he can't really do that if he showed just how tired he was getting.
"Man... Who'd of thought it'd take longer to get up... Then it'd be to... Get down..." he puffed as he made sure to help out Everett whenever he had trouble catching up. After all, if Joshua was having such a hard time getting up the mountain then it didn't really take a genius to figure out that Everett would have an even HARDER time doing so.
Eventually, the familiar sight of the wooden bench came into view once more. And sure enough, right there next to it lay Joshua's forgotten and THANKFULLY untouched duffle bag. Whilst Joshua was too optimistic to believe anyone would be sick enough to play along, he'd carelessly lost enough I-Pods and wallets to thieves to believe that there'd be more then a couple of guys willing to steal stuff to survive here.
He hurried over to his bag, briefly tripping over himself as he did so. And as luck would have it, laying barely a few feet or so away from it was the small metal stick thingey Joshua had received as his weapon. He picked it up, kissing it and cradling it in his arms as if it were his own child. It didn't occur to him that this may have looked somewhat odd in front of Everett until he looked over at the overweight boy's reaction. After doing so he immediately straightened out and cleared his throat.
"Man... For a second there I thought i'd end up forgetting this. No idea what it is though... Some kinda metal katana-stick thingey or something? I dunno... Don't suppose you have any idea what it is do you? Not that it really matters or anythin'. Doubt theres much you can do with it other then hitting stuff. Not that i'm complaining..."
It was at that point that Joshua realized that, whilst he had a general goal in mind to achieve (Namely getting the hell off this crazy island) he'd yet to come up with any decent ideas on how to actually do so. Or even what they should be doing next. He said earlier himself that they should look out from their vantage point, but the question on his mind was WHERE exactly? I suppose I could always ask Everett...
"Anyway, uh... Sooo... What now? Got any ideas?"
Where the hell's Spider-Man when you REALLY need him? Sure he ain't real and everything, but that's hardly an excuse to lay down on the job!
"No time like the present!"
And on that note, Joshua began to make his way back up the mountain pathway, motioning Everett to follow along. Getting up the mountain was surprisingly more hard work then it was getting down... Well, Joshua was surprised anyway. Being the kind of guy whose never gone on a proper hike before meant that he was more than a little unprepared for the tiring task ahead of him.
Nevertheless, he trudged on wearily with the same hope and determination as before. He had to stand tall for Everett, make sure the poor guy didn't break down like he did earlier... And he can't really do that if he showed just how tired he was getting.
"Man... Who'd of thought it'd take longer to get up... Then it'd be to... Get down..." he puffed as he made sure to help out Everett whenever he had trouble catching up. After all, if Joshua was having such a hard time getting up the mountain then it didn't really take a genius to figure out that Everett would have an even HARDER time doing so.
Eventually, the familiar sight of the wooden bench came into view once more. And sure enough, right there next to it lay Joshua's forgotten and THANKFULLY untouched duffle bag. Whilst Joshua was too optimistic to believe anyone would be sick enough to play along, he'd carelessly lost enough I-Pods and wallets to thieves to believe that there'd be more then a couple of guys willing to steal stuff to survive here.
He hurried over to his bag, briefly tripping over himself as he did so. And as luck would have it, laying barely a few feet or so away from it was the small metal stick thingey Joshua had received as his weapon. He picked it up, kissing it and cradling it in his arms as if it were his own child. It didn't occur to him that this may have looked somewhat odd in front of Everett until he looked over at the overweight boy's reaction. After doing so he immediately straightened out and cleared his throat.
"Man... For a second there I thought i'd end up forgetting this. No idea what it is though... Some kinda metal katana-stick thingey or something? I dunno... Don't suppose you have any idea what it is do you? Not that it really matters or anythin'. Doubt theres much you can do with it other then hitting stuff. Not that i'm complaining..."
It was at that point that Joshua realized that, whilst he had a general goal in mind to achieve (Namely getting the hell off this crazy island) he'd yet to come up with any decent ideas on how to actually do so. Or even what they should be doing next. He said earlier himself that they should look out from their vantage point, but the question on his mind was WHERE exactly? I suppose I could always ask Everett...
"Anyway, uh... Sooo... What now? Got any ideas?"
Where the hell's Spider-Man when you REALLY need him? Sure he ain't real and everything, but that's hardly an excuse to lay down on the job!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
At least Josh wasn't calling Everett on the flatness of his words. They were going to keep on truckin', pretend things were fine. He could work that. Better than mind-wrenching terror. So up the mountain they went once again. It was sheer, undiluted hell. Everett had had more exercise in the past thirty minutes than in most entire days. That, plus the sudden emptiness of his stomach and his emotional fatigue, had him on edge. The only thing letting him keep a grip on himself was that Josh was being a sport and waiting up. The boy was being so kind and considerate. On the one hand, it made Everett happy to know that someone cared. On the other, it made him feel awful for being a burden. Without him, Josh would've had an easy time, gone racing ahead or something.
The boy quipped about the difficulty of the climb, and Everett managed a weak, wheezing chuckle. Yes. It certainly was harder going up than down. Especially going up a second time. Everett was pretty sure Josh was playing up his own exhaustion, trying to make him feel better. It was a nice gesture.
Moving steadily uphill, he forced himself to focus. One foot in front of the other.One step at a time. Exercise wasn't the worst thing in the world. After all, anyone could manage, if they just had the willpower. Memories came back to him, walking behind the Promenade, encountering Laverne Falciander. She was a girl who knew determination. He blinked. Was she here, too? He hoped not. He'd never managed to catch up with her after their brief encounter. Never managed a kind word or something to the large girl who was the butt of so many jokes. Then again, that was who Everett was. He wasn't special. Wasn't smart or skilled or charming. All he had was his own determination, and even that was not so much, in the grand scheme of things. He'd probably have been dead already if he hadn't met up with Josh. Probably have done something dumb like Remi.
Remi. He still could not believe the boy was gone. How had it happened? It seemed too sudden. Too shocking to possibly be true. The memory of all the blood made Everett woozy again. He had to distract himself. Had to focus on getting to the top. And then he realized that he was there. He'd managed to detach himself enough, send himself far enough into his own mind, to make the exertion tolerable. That was a useful skill. He wished he'd discovered it about a decade ago, back when he'd still had a chance to change his body shape, still had a chance to improve his path.
Had he kissed his mom goodbye? It was a strange thought, jarring. Coming out of nowhere. He cast about, trying to remember, finding himself unable, trying to puzzle out why he'd just now thought of it. Oh. Josh was kissing some metal stick. That was why. He glanced at Everett, and, apparently concerned about his thoughts, started justifying or explaining or something. A mad impulse hit Everett, the sort of thing he'd never done at home, and, without cracking a smile, he puffed out, "Nah, it's cool man. You don't have to apologize for your girlfriend. You're doing better than me. I've got no clue what she is. Maybe Chinese?" Well, it sounded dumb. He had no joking capability, but he'd tried. That was something. Hopefully not a sign of insanity.
Josh asked his opinion on where to go, and Everett considered. He looked around. It was nice here, on top of the mountain. Nice and cool. All too exposed, though. He dug through his bag and pulled out his map. Tried to sync it up to what he could see. No luck. He was hopeless with maps. Hopeless with compasses and wilderness survival. Just plain useless. At least he could see some buildings, off in the distance. Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe, if he had to die, he could at least do it on a comfortable bed or something. He gestured vaguely in their direction and said, "I don't know, maybe down there? We could find some people or something. Get some supplies, for when we find our crew."
He waited for a couple of seconds, but then realized that he'd be better off getting a head start. He started moving again. Always moving. At least with the exercise and starvation rations, he might actually lose some weight on this island. That was funny. SOTF combined with that reality show about getting skinny. Who'd have thought?
So, once again, down the mountain he went.
((Everett Taylor continued in Regrets))
The boy quipped about the difficulty of the climb, and Everett managed a weak, wheezing chuckle. Yes. It certainly was harder going up than down. Especially going up a second time. Everett was pretty sure Josh was playing up his own exhaustion, trying to make him feel better. It was a nice gesture.
Moving steadily uphill, he forced himself to focus. One foot in front of the other.One step at a time. Exercise wasn't the worst thing in the world. After all, anyone could manage, if they just had the willpower. Memories came back to him, walking behind the Promenade, encountering Laverne Falciander. She was a girl who knew determination. He blinked. Was she here, too? He hoped not. He'd never managed to catch up with her after their brief encounter. Never managed a kind word or something to the large girl who was the butt of so many jokes. Then again, that was who Everett was. He wasn't special. Wasn't smart or skilled or charming. All he had was his own determination, and even that was not so much, in the grand scheme of things. He'd probably have been dead already if he hadn't met up with Josh. Probably have done something dumb like Remi.
Remi. He still could not believe the boy was gone. How had it happened? It seemed too sudden. Too shocking to possibly be true. The memory of all the blood made Everett woozy again. He had to distract himself. Had to focus on getting to the top. And then he realized that he was there. He'd managed to detach himself enough, send himself far enough into his own mind, to make the exertion tolerable. That was a useful skill. He wished he'd discovered it about a decade ago, back when he'd still had a chance to change his body shape, still had a chance to improve his path.
Had he kissed his mom goodbye? It was a strange thought, jarring. Coming out of nowhere. He cast about, trying to remember, finding himself unable, trying to puzzle out why he'd just now thought of it. Oh. Josh was kissing some metal stick. That was why. He glanced at Everett, and, apparently concerned about his thoughts, started justifying or explaining or something. A mad impulse hit Everett, the sort of thing he'd never done at home, and, without cracking a smile, he puffed out, "Nah, it's cool man. You don't have to apologize for your girlfriend. You're doing better than me. I've got no clue what she is. Maybe Chinese?" Well, it sounded dumb. He had no joking capability, but he'd tried. That was something. Hopefully not a sign of insanity.
Josh asked his opinion on where to go, and Everett considered. He looked around. It was nice here, on top of the mountain. Nice and cool. All too exposed, though. He dug through his bag and pulled out his map. Tried to sync it up to what he could see. No luck. He was hopeless with maps. Hopeless with compasses and wilderness survival. Just plain useless. At least he could see some buildings, off in the distance. Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe, if he had to die, he could at least do it on a comfortable bed or something. He gestured vaguely in their direction and said, "I don't know, maybe down there? We could find some people or something. Get some supplies, for when we find our crew."
He waited for a couple of seconds, but then realized that he'd be better off getting a head start. He started moving again. Always moving. At least with the exercise and starvation rations, he might actually lose some weight on this island. That was funny. SOTF combined with that reality show about getting skinny. Who'd have thought?
So, once again, down the mountain he went.
((Everett Taylor continued in Regrets))
"I don't know, maybe down there? We could find some people or something. Get some supplies, for when we find our crew."
"Sounds like a plan! Bet theres plenty of people out there who're dying to find a way outghta here... Wait, that doesn't sound right... Whatever, I know a couple of people who we can rely on in times of crisis like this. Daniel Vaughan for one! Guy's got a black belt in karate or something... Only problem is, he ain't exactly the brightest bulb on the porch, if you know what I'm sayin'?"
As he blethered on to Everett, blissfully unaware of the fact that the overweight student had already began to make his way down the mountain, his attention drifted off as he took one last look over the vast sight before him. He didn't notice before just how much of a vast sight it was to behold. He could see all across the island from up here... From the fair ground all the way up to the lighthouse near the coast. So big... So very, very big... And Marty was out there somewhere, lost and alone.
How was he holding up right now? Probably scared shitless by now... He wouldn't be playing, Joshua was 100% sure about that. Hell, he doubted anyone would actually play. So sure in fact that he almost threw away his weapon there and then... And yet, for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. No idea why... Perhaps deep down, he really WAS worried about other people playing... Joshua just shifted those thoughts aside for now as he tucked the metal stick thingey into his pants.
Man, you know what'd be awesome? If Deadpool was here... That'd just kick ASS! He'd be all like "Pow Pow Pow!" and Danya would be all like "AARGHBLGH HELP MEEE!" and Deadpool would be all like "Shut up! You can't hear me shooting you! POW POW!" and then Danya would be like "AAARGHUG You got me!" and then Deadpool would be all like "Hah! Now to break the 4th wall a couple of times!". Hehe, man. I wish I could break the 4th wall. Shame this is all real and stuff... OR IS IT?!?
......
What? Oh yeah, right...
"Aanyway, I think we ought to start making tracks... You with m..."
At that point he realised that Everett wasn't actually standing there anymore. It took him a while to notice, but eventually he caught sight of him a couple of yards down the mountain path. Woah, gotta admit. He's got initiative, thats for sure...
"YO! Everett-man, wait up!" he called out as he struggled to catch up, tripping over the bench for the third time as he rushed on over.
Don't worry Marty... Help's on the way, you'll see......
((Joshua Krakowski continued in Mad World))
"Sounds like a plan! Bet theres plenty of people out there who're dying to find a way outghta here... Wait, that doesn't sound right... Whatever, I know a couple of people who we can rely on in times of crisis like this. Daniel Vaughan for one! Guy's got a black belt in karate or something... Only problem is, he ain't exactly the brightest bulb on the porch, if you know what I'm sayin'?"
As he blethered on to Everett, blissfully unaware of the fact that the overweight student had already began to make his way down the mountain, his attention drifted off as he took one last look over the vast sight before him. He didn't notice before just how much of a vast sight it was to behold. He could see all across the island from up here... From the fair ground all the way up to the lighthouse near the coast. So big... So very, very big... And Marty was out there somewhere, lost and alone.
How was he holding up right now? Probably scared shitless by now... He wouldn't be playing, Joshua was 100% sure about that. Hell, he doubted anyone would actually play. So sure in fact that he almost threw away his weapon there and then... And yet, for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. No idea why... Perhaps deep down, he really WAS worried about other people playing... Joshua just shifted those thoughts aside for now as he tucked the metal stick thingey into his pants.
Man, you know what'd be awesome? If Deadpool was here... That'd just kick ASS! He'd be all like "Pow Pow Pow!" and Danya would be all like "AARGHBLGH HELP MEEE!" and Deadpool would be all like "Shut up! You can't hear me shooting you! POW POW!" and then Danya would be like "AAARGHUG You got me!" and then Deadpool would be all like "Hah! Now to break the 4th wall a couple of times!". Hehe, man. I wish I could break the 4th wall. Shame this is all real and stuff... OR IS IT?!?
......
What? Oh yeah, right...
"Aanyway, I think we ought to start making tracks... You with m..."
At that point he realised that Everett wasn't actually standing there anymore. It took him a while to notice, but eventually he caught sight of him a couple of yards down the mountain path. Woah, gotta admit. He's got initiative, thats for sure...
"YO! Everett-man, wait up!" he called out as he struggled to catch up, tripping over the bench for the third time as he rushed on over.
Don't worry Marty... Help's on the way, you'll see......
((Joshua Krakowski continued in Mad World))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
((Skipping post order to keep Dougal active and get him out of the thread))
Slinging the rather heavy shotgun over his right shoulder and readjusting his slightly wonky brown-rimmed glasses and pushing them back up his nose, Dougal continued walking towards the trees. He began to hum a couple of old songs his mum liked to listen to (songs Dougal hated, but was forced to listen to whenever he went on a car journey when his mum was driving, and he was ashamed he knew the words) and focused his mind on kicking large rocks on the ground to try and keep his mind off of the rather bleak situation he found himself in. As he reached the first tree at the perimeter of the forest, he rested against it, leaning his shotgun on the rather rotten tree next to him, and pulled out a map and decided to think of a place that was good to hide in. No luck whatsoever. They all either looked like horrible places to be in or places that were already probably filled to the brim.
Quickly giving Albert a wave and motioning him to come along, Dougal picked up his stuff and set off into the trees. He had no idea what he was doing, but he just had to keep moving.
((Augustus MacDougal continued in No Rest for the Wicked.))
Slinging the rather heavy shotgun over his right shoulder and readjusting his slightly wonky brown-rimmed glasses and pushing them back up his nose, Dougal continued walking towards the trees. He began to hum a couple of old songs his mum liked to listen to (songs Dougal hated, but was forced to listen to whenever he went on a car journey when his mum was driving, and he was ashamed he knew the words) and focused his mind on kicking large rocks on the ground to try and keep his mind off of the rather bleak situation he found himself in. As he reached the first tree at the perimeter of the forest, he rested against it, leaning his shotgun on the rather rotten tree next to him, and pulled out a map and decided to think of a place that was good to hide in. No luck whatsoever. They all either looked like horrible places to be in or places that were already probably filled to the brim.
Quickly giving Albert a wave and motioning him to come along, Dougal picked up his stuff and set off into the trees. He had no idea what he was doing, but he just had to keep moving.
((Augustus MacDougal continued in No Rest for the Wicked.))
((Albert Lions continued from Joystick Hero))
Looking around as Dougal fidgeted with the map, Al glanced around, distracted by the fauna in a nearby tree. Some cardinals had made a nest on an out-of-reach branch, while a squirrel scurried up and down the trunk, carrying nuts back and forth. "Hey Doogie," he inquired, not really paying attention to the fact that he'd been signaled to follow him out, "you think if we're stuck here long enough, we'll have to start a campfire and cook up squirrels or something?" He glanced around to the east. "Oh! Maybe one of those houses that way has some canned food or something! Wonder if they have cable there, too. What d'you think, Doogie?"
He looked back to Dougal. There was, however, no Dougal to be seen.
"Doogie? Aw, come on, man, wait up!"
((Albert Lions continued in Milk of Human Kindness. THREAD CONCLUDED))
Looking around as Dougal fidgeted with the map, Al glanced around, distracted by the fauna in a nearby tree. Some cardinals had made a nest on an out-of-reach branch, while a squirrel scurried up and down the trunk, carrying nuts back and forth. "Hey Doogie," he inquired, not really paying attention to the fact that he'd been signaled to follow him out, "you think if we're stuck here long enough, we'll have to start a campfire and cook up squirrels or something?" He glanced around to the east. "Oh! Maybe one of those houses that way has some canned food or something! Wonder if they have cable there, too. What d'you think, Doogie?"
He looked back to Dougal. There was, however, no Dougal to be seen.
"Doogie? Aw, come on, man, wait up!"
((Albert Lions continued in Milk of Human Kindness. THREAD CONCLUDED))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Stark. 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.